


Shadows

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Car Accidents, Caring, Children, Chronic Pain, Cold Weather, Companions, Conversations, Delusions, Developing Relationship, Dogs, Established Relationship, First Love, First Time Bottoming, Flashbacks, Flirting, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hallucinations, Homophobia, Hospitals, Hot Chocolate, Karaoke, Loss, Love, M/M, Moving On, Parent-Child Relationship, Permanent Injury, Post-Divorce, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Second Chances, Sexuality Crisis, Sleeping Together, Songwriting, Suicide Attempt, Talking To Dead People, Walks On The Beach, letting go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark can't let go of the one he lost, or make room in his heart for the one he finds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Walking was difficult with Kian hanging off his arm, but somehow Mark managed it anyway. It wasn't like Kian was a burden, even when he was a bit tipsy and giggling, stumbling down the footpath with Mark's arm around his waist to stop him tripping.

“I fucking love you!” He announced. Mark laughed, leaning in to kiss his forehead, got a silly grin back. Kian wasn't that drunk, was just having a cheerfully good time, had had just enough beer to make him adorably sentimental. Mark had just had the one, had agreed to be designated so Kian could have a few. It had just started as dinner, hadn't meant to go anywhere full on, and then they'd run into some mates and had a couple of pints at a pub, which had turned into a couple of drinks at a club. They'd driven into the city, just expecting to have a meal and head home, so it wasn't like they could just get a cab and leave the car in the middle of Dublin. Knowing Mark's luck it'd probably get keyed or graffitied or something.

“I love you more.” Mark replied, letting himself be pulled into a clumsy embrace against the side of a building. Fingers threaded through his hair, full lips lifting for a gentle kiss.

“Hey.” Kian murmured. Mark smiled back, caressing his cheek. “You're beautiful.”

Mark snorted, nuzzling into a slightly flushed cheek, feeling a kiss brush his jaw.

“You're mad.”

“No, I'm not, I'm...” Kian shook his head. “God, I'm so in love with you. You don't...”

“I do.” Mark murmured, glancing at the engagement ring on his finger, the one that was reflecting neon lights, the gold coming up blue. Lips brushed over it, blue eyes looking up fondly. He was tugged into a kiss a moment later. “I love you.” He murmured when they broke for air. “So much. I can't even...” He shook his head, not knowing how to express how much. “I'll always love you.”

“Good.” He got a cheeky grin. “I was planning on doing the same.” Kian lifted his own hand, glancing at the matching ring on his finger. They'd only been wearing them about two weeks but that was enough to know that Mark couldn't bear to be apart from Kian, not for the rest of his life. He'd felt that way for the last six years, though. Wasn't able to help it. He hadn't meant to fall for Kian, not in the beginning. They'd been friends years, and then one day highschool was over and they were being all sentimental, talking about not losing contact and...

But being with Kian had always been so easy. His best friend. The person who _got_ him. Who just saw exactly who and what he was and thought that was fantastic, who made everything about him work, who made him a little better and happier every single day.

They made it back to the car eventually, hands held between them the whole way and pausing occasionally for a bit of a snog. They weren't usually this bad, usually kept the public displays of affection to a minimum. Maybe it was the post-engagement excitement – Mark had basically been fizzing for the last two weeks, ever since Kian had surprised him by taking a knee in front of Mark's whole family on their last trip back to Sligo.

And now he was nudging Kian into the car, telling him to put on his damn seatbelt and going around to the other side to slide into the driver's seat.

“Heater?”

“Please.” Mark nodded, watching Kian fiddle with the knob. It was still not too cold, but there was a definite chill starting to set into the air as August began to stagger into September. It was starting to rain a bit, fat drops spattering the windshield.

“Radio?”

“Sure.”

Kian began to fiddle with that too, settling on a soft rock station. He turned it up a little, glancing over at Mark as he they began to pull out of the parking lot.

“Bed when we get home?”  
  
“Think so.” Mark nodded. “I'm bloody knackered.”

“Getting old.” Kian winked, his hand coming out to squeeze Mark's thigh. Mark rolled his eyes. “Too tired for a shag before bed?”  
  
“Dunno.” Mark smirked. “What kind of shag are we talking?”

“An excellent one. Obviously.” The wink he got was borderline lascivious. The hand snuck up a little.

“Cut it out. Driving.” Mark slapped the hand away.

“Aw...”

“No.” Mark chuckled, feeling a rush of affection settle into his bones. The hand landed obediently on his shoulder instead. “Love you.” He said, trying to take the sting out of the aborted grope.

“Love you too.”

“Do up your seatbelt.”

“Fine...” Kian sighed, yanking the belt over and clicking it shut. He was terrible for conveniently forgetting. “You're such a worrier.”

“No, I just want you to stay in one piece.” Mark sighed. The hand squeezed his shoulder again. “I'm not done with you yet.”

“I should hope not. There's still the shagging to do.” Kian agreed. Fingers gently stroked up his neck. He turned to kiss them, keeping one eye carefully on the road.

By the time they made it halfway up the motorway it was starting to rain harder, getting heavier as the seconds went past. He turned on the wipers, leaning forward slightly to peer through the windshield.

“Shit, it's bucketing.” It was coming down harder now, the white lines only just visible flashing past on the black asphalt. “I'm going to pull over. I can't see fucking anything.” He reached out to turn off the radio, wanting to concentrate a bit more, and began to pull over to the side.

They were on Clontarf Road, probably still about twenty minutes away. They'd only moved into the Bayside place about six months ago but it was starting to feel like home. The daily commute to work was nice, driving along the water's edge, and there was plenty of room for kids. Kian wanted some, Mark was sort of hesitant about the idea but had to admit as time went by that it would be nice to have a couple of sprogs running around. They'd talked a little about a surrogate, but that was all still in the future. They were only twenty-five. There was loads of time.

“Well... fuck.” It was slamming down now. He braked, leaving the head- and tail-lights on so they'd at least be visible to other motorists in case somebody else had the same idea. It was okay here, a bit sheltered from the wind beside a clutch of trees. Leaves were whipping across the windows. “Twenty more minutes and we would have missed it.”

“Oh well.” Kian shrugged, glancing over at him. “Want to kill some time?” He got another wink, and the hand made its way back to his thigh.

“Getting a bit old to shag in the backseat?”

“Never too old.” Kian snorted. “Anyway...” He unbuckled his seatbelt, climbing across to straddle Mark's lap. “It's sort of romantic.” Arms wrapped around his shoulders, Kian's bum dropping slightly to grind into his lap.

“You have a weird idea about romance.”

“You're here. It's dark. I love you. Instant romance.” Kian shrugged. Fingers played at his shirt buttons. “Come on. Old time's sake.”

Mark snorted, remembering the old times. They'd been awkward and stupid and giggly but they'd certainly been fun. Making out in the back of Kian's parents old station wagon at the drive-in, snogging on a pile of lumpy blankets while the movie had played unheeded and their popcorn had gone cold on the front seat.

“Old times.” Mark sighed. Kian whooped, already beginning to clamber back over, his arse bobbing between the seats while he wrestled his limbs through the gap. Mark gave it a slap, heard a laughing yelp in response.

“Get yourself over here.” Kian settled on the backseat, arms crossed and looking expectant.

“On my way.” Mark snorted, starting to poke his head through. He got one shoulder through, started to wrestle the other one over. Suddenly he was blinded by a bright light that filled the car, squinted into it. Kian looked back over his shoulder.

“Fucking hell. What... Shit!” He heard Kian gasp. “Get out.” He yanked at the handle, wind and rain rushing in as it came open.

“What's...? Mark tried to shield his eyes.

“Get the fuck out!” Kian yelled, shoving the door again. The wind was buffeting it closed. Mark grabbed for his own doorhandle, registering the chrome vertical lines of a grill cutting through the light and the rain.

He thought he heard Kian shriek, though it was hard to tell with the sound of rending metal. His ears popped as he went upside down, the noise so loud it was almost silence. He saw a hand flip through the air, fingers grab the back of his seat, and then it was dark and there were leaves in his face, the metal tang of blood filling his mouth, his whole right side in sudden excruciating pain.

“Kian...” He managed to choke out. He could barely see. There was blood in his eyes, filling his nose. He coughed, tried to wipe it away but his right arm was trapped under something. “Ki...” He yanked a little, felt a screaming agony when it came free. Kian's hand was on the ceiling, which wasn't right, because the ceiling was suddenly the floor, muddy and sinking into rising water and...

“Mark.” There was a retching cough, wet and thick. “Are...”

“I'm here. I'm...” He slid a little closer, trying to see. His leg didn't want to work. He reached Kian's hand, grabbed it with his left, felt fingers squeeze weakly back. “You're okay?”

“I'm...” There was another cough. The fingers loosened. He slid himself a little closer through the muck, saw a pale face covered in blood, dazed eyes streaming with tears. The back of the car was a wreck, crumpled, glass everywhere, Kian's legs hidden in the shadows. The seats were between them, their tops against the roof of the car, pushed down by twisted metal. He reached out his left arm, managed to reach just far enough to touch a bloody cheek. There was a gash on Kian's forehead, steadily gushing down over his eye. “Fuck it hurts. Can't breathe.”

“Can you kick my phone over?” He pointed over to where he could see it near Kian's feet. It had been in the centre console and now it was next to the top of the back window.

“I don't think so. I can't...” Kian's face crumpled under a sudden wet gasp of pain. “Shit. Oh shit. Ah...” A fresh burst of tears broke from his eyes. “I can't breathe. I...” He sucked in a shallow breath that gurgled in his throat. “Can't...” He coughed again, spitting blood out, then inhaled with obvious difficulty. Coughed. Mark felt his heart drop. Kian was so pale. He grabbed Kian's hand again.

“You're fine. Just...”

He sucked in another breath, and Mark heard it catch. A second later Kian's eyes rolled back, lips parting. Blonde hair, orange with blood, dropped slowly into the brown puddle on the ceiling. Mark grabbed his hand harder, shaking him.

“Kian. Ki. Come on, just... just...” He swallowed, the pain stabbing his whole side like an afterthought. “Kian. Wake the fuck up. You're scaring me. Come on. I love you. Please...”

He was still shaking Kian five minutes later when the ambulance lights began to flicker over his fiance's slack face, still calling his name to the beat of the rain slamming down and filling the car.

 


	2. Chapter 1

“Green? Really?

“I like green.” Mark rolled his eyes, glancing over to where Kian was perched on the edge of the bed, chin rested appraisingly in his hands. “I thought you liked green?”

“Yeah. It's okay.” He glanced over at the wardrobe Mark was busy rummaging through. “I always liked the blue one.”

“You've liked the blue one for three years. I can't always wear the blue one. It'll look weird. People will think I only have one shirt.”

“But I like the blue one.” Kian shrugged. “It matches your eyes.”

“Yeah, well, it fit a bit better when I bought it.” Mark explained. “I've gotten fat. Not enough exercise.”

“You can't keep using that as an excuse.” Blue eyes rolled condescendingly, then flicked to the cane leaned against the bedside table. He'd graduated from the crutches about a year after the accident, his shattered right hip more able to take the weight after way too much physical therapy and so many pins, plates and screws that he was fairly certain he was becoming a Terminator or something. Kian reckoned Dalek, which was much less cool.

“You still fancy me?”

“I always fancy you.” Kian snorted, flopping back onto the bed. Mark lay down too a minute later, gingerly settling so he didn't aggravate anything. There'd been a real risk of clotting and infection at first. It was a disaster in there. They'd seriously questioned whether he'd ever walk again, and he'd been almost tempted not to try, the pain too bad to even consider standing on it. He'd almost given up before Kian had come in, crossed his arms, and asked him if he was going to lay there all day like a whining bitch or get the fuck up.

The broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and pretty fantastic case of whiplash hadn't really helped things, but it had all healed, in time. Morphine was a hell of a drug and the payout from the lorry company had stretched out long enough that he'd been able to live reasonably comfortably without going back to work. He couldn't, anyway. He kept having flashbacks, wild screaming fits that would come out of nowhere, though he was getting a handle on it now. Not something you could really risk coming out when you were trying to teach a room full of teenagers about the Roman Empire.

He'd been doing other things, though. Gone back to a rather ridiculous teenage hobby of writing songs. It sort of helped, getting everything down on paper, trying to work through some of the shit he was still trying to make peace with. He didn't have the instrumental skills, but he'd gotten himself set up with some pretty great programs for mixing music, would spend long hours tinkering with beats and vocal effects, Kian encouraging him and tapping his foot to the beat when Mark would play something he'd written.

“Where we going tonight?”

“Not sure. Some restaurant.” Mark shrugged, twisting the engagement ring on his left hand. “Shane's got plans, apparently.”

“Shane's plans are always boring.” Kian huffed. “Can I come?”

“I just assumed you would. You're like a bad smell. Can't get rid of you.”

“Nice to be invited, though.” Kian laughed. “It's fine. I'll just sit in the corner and not talk.”

“Don't sulk.” Mark snorted. “You always sulk.”

“I never sulk.” A bottom lip thrust out in an exaggerated pout. “You should wear the blue shirt.”

“Fine.” Mark heaved himself back up, glancing at his watch. He could take some more painkillers soon, if he wanted. He was trying to wean himself off them a bit, but he could definitely tell the difference when he didn't take them, the deep, throbbing pulse of pain in the metal-riddled ruin of his pelvis. It was starting to ache a bit now. Not hurt, just like a constant pressure.

He grabbed the blue shirt, tugged it on. It was a little tight but still looked okay. He tugged a black leather jacket over it, tidying up his hair and wondering whether he should bother shaving so he didn't look so much like a scraggly transient. Kian had always liked him with a bit of stubble and then he'd just sort of got carried away, but he'd tidied it up a bit the day before, just trimmed it so it was cropped closer to his face. Last time he hadn't bothered and Shane had given him a concerned look like he was becoming some sort of crazy, housebound hermit.

“Alright?”

“Nice.” Kian winked. Mark rolled his eyes, reaching for his cane.

 

*

 

A hush had fallen over the room when Shane stood up and tapped his glass. The table was packed, half the bloody restaurant booked out. Dinner was halfway in and Mark had been methodically working his way through a bowl of gnocchi, listening to Kian bang on in his ear as usual. He was still going when the rest of the room went silent and Mark looked away, trying to drop a hint that it was probably time he shut up and stop making Mark look like he was being rude or something, not talking to anyone else and interrupting things.

“Hi, so...” Gillian stood up beside him, his arm sneaking around her waist. “So we have an announcement.”

She flushed, clapping her hands together.

“We're pregnant again!”

There were general cheers. Kian laughed beside him while Mark clapped. He stood and hugged Shane, who was already beginning to do the rounds of congratulations, Gillian getting a hug from one of her friends further up the table.

“Congratulations, mate.”

“Thanks.” Shane grinned, already moving on to the next person.

It was almost two hours later that they were getting the shoo-along from the hostess, the restaurant empty of other diners and chairs being meaningfully stacked on tables. Mark grabbed his cane, feeling Shane fall into step beside him as they headed back towards the carpark. Mark had called a taxi to meet him there.

“Hey. Barely got to talk to you.”

“It's cool. I'd say you were a bit preoccupied.” He got a happy grin in reply. “Congratulations, Shay. Really. I'm so happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Shane slapped him gently on the back. His friends always seemed to treat him a bit like glass now. It was odd, thinking back on when they'd been seventeen, wrestling and shoving and feeling invincible. Unbreakable. Now here he was, almost twenty-eight and thinking it was about time to take another pain pill now that he had a full stomach. “How you doing?”

“You know.” Mark shrugged. “It is what it is. Try me best, but...”

“Yeah?” Shane nodded. “How long you had that shirt now?” He glanced down meaningfully. Mark glanced away, saw Kian roll his eyes.

“It was always Kian's favourite.”

“Yeah.” Shane sighed. A hand touched his shoulder again. “Look, I don't want to be a prick but... have you thought about talking to someone maybe? I mean, it's been almost three years and...” Mark shook his head, feeling a lump fill his throat. “We're here for you. You know that, right?”

“It's been two years, five months, and nineteen days.” Mark said quietly. Shane nodded silently. “We were together six years, Shane. He was the love of my life.”

“No. I know.” Fingers squeezed gently. Kian had disappeared. He did that sometimes, but he was always back. Mark twisted the engagement ring on his finger, saw Shane try not to look like he was watching. “I don't know. You don't leave the house much. I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“I'm not, really.” Mark admitted. “But I'm as okay as I can be. All things considered. I just...” He looked away, feeling tears prick his eyes. “I lost him. He's gone but... he's always right here. You know? Like, I talk to him all the time and...”

“Still doing that?”

Mark nodded.

“Gill's friend was seeing this really great counsellor when her mam passed away and...”

“Thanks. But no.” Mark twisted his engagement ring again. “I'm fine. I am. I mean, I'm in horrible screaming pain all the time and my fiance died on the side of the motorway, but otherwise I'm pretty fucking fantastic.” He knew he was being unpleasant, but it wasn't like Kian was around to scold him for it. Shane's cheeks went pink, his eyebrows knitting in.

“I miss him too, you know.”  
  
“I know.” Mark exhaled slowly, the sound of tears in Shane's voice making him feel awful. More awful. It was getting hard to judge, these days, when everything was just fucking awful across the board, when it was either the slight haze of the pills or the sandpapery raw feeling of hate and rage and sorrow. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.” Shane swallowed, looking away. “Let me know if there's anything I can do, okay?” It sounded like a platitude, like Shane was looking for an excuse to make an exit. Sure enough, a few seconds later he sped up, jogging up to walk alongside one of his work friends.

Kian appeared in front of him a second later, walking backwards and studying him.

“Behaving like a dick to our friends?”

Mark shrugged, looking around at the small herd of people he was keeping pace with. There wasn't much to say.

 

*

 

He started seeing Kian about five weeks after the accident. The first two weeks were mostly a blur of surgery, morphine, and constant indescribable pain. They told him when he was lucid enough to ask where Kian was, and he lay there for hours, caught in a cage of traction and plaster and tubes plugged into his veins and cried helplessly, staring at the ceiling, not even able to sit up and grab a tissue while the pillow turned into a swamp beside his ears.

He tried to kill himself three weeks later.

It wasn't an easy thing to do, but he was finally able to sit up at that point, had been given a solid meal and was waiting on another round of surgery in a few days when he decided that there wasn't really much point any more. How could there be? If Kian was there he'd be holding his hand, making jokes about hospital food and asking if there was anything he wanted for when he came out of theatre. But Kian wasn't there and his parents couldn't be there all the time, though his mother had sat beside him until he'd woken from the induced coma he'd floated in for the first few days, drifting on a gentle tide of nothingness and sure he was able to hear Kian laughing somewhere.

But she'd gone back to Sligo, was coming down again in a few days to visit and he couldn't believe how _hard_ everything was. Not able to find the fucking point when he was upending everyone else's life and didn't even know how to live his own. Not now. Not knowing that all it had left was emptiness and pain.

So he waited until he was alone with a plate full of peas and pudding, and jammed the fork into his wrist.

It had been okay, actually. He was on so many painkillers that it didn't really hurt as such, though the sudden flood of blood when he yanked it sideways made him want to gag a little bit. Then he just lay there quietly, trying to catch most of the blood in the sick bucket beside the bed, because it wasn't really fair on the nurses to have to mop all that up, not when they already had to wipe his arse.

When he came to it was three days later, his wrist was bandaged heavily, and he was in a sparse white room that appeared to have no sharp corners of any kind.

And Kian was there.

“Hey.” Kian said. He was leaned against the wall beside the bed, looking effortlessly casual in his favourite brown jacket and old jeans. Mark wasn't sure if he was surprised or not. “Try to kill yourself?”

“Yeah.” He mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush in response to the look on Kian's face, the fond little smirk that suggested Mark was maybe sort of a bit of an idiot.

“How's that working out?”

“Bit of a failure, apparently.” Mark sighed. “It's good to see you.”

“It generally is.” Kian nodded. “Pretty sure they've got you on suicide watch. This room is fucking depressing.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He got an affectionate smile, looked up as Kian moved closer, leaning over to brush fingers down his cheek. For a second he thought he could feel them, that little touch that was just so _Kian_. They were gone a second later, Kian sitting down on the side of the bed, the mattress not sinking at all under his weight. “This is fucked, right?”

“It's pretty fucked.” Mark agreed. Kian's laugh was like bells. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“You'll be okay.”

“Thanks.”

“No. I mean it.” He got a sympathetic grimace. “I'll be pissed off if you're not.”

“You're pissed off at me?”

“You tried to kill yourself.”

“Yeah, well, you're actually dead.” Mark retorted, covering his mouth with trembling fingers when he realised what he'd said. He looked away, not wanting to look into blue eyes that weren't there. “You're dead. You're not coming back.” His lips hurt forming the words. “You bastard.”

“I didn't do it on purpose.”

“No. I know.” Mark swallowed hard, struggling back the tears. Kian tilted his head. “I love you. I know I said it, but you _knew_ , right?”

“Course I did.” The cocky grin, the sparkling eyes. It was just so fucking _Kian._ Jesus.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“I can't do this without you.”

“Course you can.” Kian leaned over, lips brushing Mark's forehead. “You're a bit brilliant.”

“You're crazy.”

“No, it's probably you.” Kian admitted. Mark smiled ruefully back. “You know I'm not here, right? Like, I'm in a box in the dirt. You couldn't even come to my funeral because you were in bed. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe you feel guilty or something and you're trying to figure out if I'd be annoyed.”

“You wouldn't be.”

“No. I probably wouldn't.” Kian chuckled. “Come visit me when you get out, okay? Better late than never.”

“Okay.” He looked up as the door to his room opened. A nurse stood there in her uniform, a clipboard in her arms. Mark nodded, got a professional smile back.

“Hello.” She said. “Who were you talking to?”

 

*

 

The beach was almost deserted at this time of the morning. He'd taken to doing small laps, just to stop himself getting too lazy and weak, and it was sort of nice doing it early, especially at this time of the year, still dark and the sand hard and still wet as the tide continued out. The cold played havoc on his hip, of course, but the solitude was nice. And nobody could say he wasn't getting out of the house. He'd seen a few joggers, and there was a man walking a dog, pausing every now and then to let it nose around in the sand and at low bushes.

“You should get a dog.”

“You keep saying that.” Mark sighed. “We've had this conversation.”

“And you should get a dog.”

“Kian...” He adjusted his hand a little bit and began to move slower, feeling his hip seize. He'd thought about it. He and Kian had been planning on getting one once they were properly settled into the house. Well, he was definitely settled. It had basically become his cocoon.

He liked dogs. His family had always had them growing up. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with one. It wasn't like he could chase it around the park or take it on brisk walks. He'd almost bought one a few months back, when he'd gone past the pet store and seen a litter of pugs in the window. They were small, wouldn't need that much, and had adorably squashed faces and curly tails. Not very manly, but friendly and manageable.

Then that night he'd had one of his episodes. Had a total freak out and ended up in the foetal position on the dining room floor, shrieking into the balled up table cloth so the neighbours wouldn't hear, the smell of blood and muddy water thick in his nose.

“You like dogs.”

“What kind of dog, then?”

“Dunno. Something friendly.” He looked up at Kian, about to reply, then realised he wasn't there. Looked over to his other side, catching blue eyes a second later. “Hey.”  
  
“I hate when you do that.”

“What?”

“Disappear and pop up again. Just stay in one place.”

“Hey, this is your delusion, not mine.” Kian retorted. Mark snorted, knowing he was right. Another jogger went past, going right through Kian as though he wasn't there. Fingers touched his shoulder a second later. “This is getting sad. You know that, yeah?”

“What do you want me to do about it?”  
  
“Something. Anything.” Kian sighed. The sun was just starting to come up over the water, the sky turning pink and gold, water going almost glassy black. There was a guy a bit further down, tossing a frisbee to his dog. Mark couldn't see him properly, not silhouetted against the dawn light, but the dog was having a great time, charging through the edge of the water, great splashes exploding around his feet. A largish dog, maybe a labrador or golden retriever, though he couldn't tell from this distance. “Maybe if you talk to a dog, you won't have to talk to me.”

“I like talking to you.”

“You did. Now you just do it to avoid talking to anyone else.”

“I don't need you to analyse me.”

“You're analysing yourself. Even your subconscious thinks you're crazy.”

“I'm not crazy.” Mark mumbled. Then realised he was walking down a beach by himself, mumbling that he wasn't crazy. Yeah, that probably looked good. “You died.”

“I died two and a half years ago.” Kian sighed. Mark closed his eyes, felt them fill with tears. “It doesn't all go away just because you admit it. I loved you. You loved me. You're twenty-seven. You really want to spend the next sixty years talking to me?”

“I was going to do that anyway.”

“I know.” Kian pursed his lips. He was suddenly in front of Mark, walking backwards. “You want to go get a hot chocolate or something? It's fucking freezing and your hip hurts like hell.”

“How do you know?”

Kian rolled his eyes.

By the time he made it up the beach Kian was more or less silent. He did that, drifted in and out. Like he was on call for whenever Mark needed a bit of a chat. He never really went away, though. Sometimes he wouldn't talk to Kian for a couple of days, but he'd still see him, reflected in shop windows, or leaned against the hood of a car, and Mark would go to say something and realise it was just some short blonde lad who didn't even look much like him. That the seat next to him at the movies was empty, even though he'd had his hand on the armrest the whole time, sure he could feel fingers threading into his in the scary bits.

The lad with the labrador was still there, mucking about at the edge of the surf. It was a friendly looking dog, pale yellow to the point of almost being white, black jaws hung open with happiness to reveal a pink tongue lolling down his chin. Mark felt himself smile as he passed them, saw the dog snatch the frisbee out of the air and charge back to his owner, drool dripping out the sides of his mouth.

“You got it? Come on, buddy!” The man encouraged. He was a little shorter than Mark, fit and slender, though a little lumpy in his jacket, scarf, and backpack, with messy blonde hair and a pouting smile. “Give.” He tugged on it lightly. The dog let go. “Good boy! Sit.” The dog did, looking totally excited about this turn of events. “Ready? Go!” He let the frisbee fly again. It floated out over the surf, landing to float on the water a few metres out. The dog charged in after it, splashing wildly, tail like a propeller as he stumbled through the cold water. Mark found himself laughing softly, blushed when blue eyes looked up at him.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” He replied, hand gripping a little tighter to his cane. “Cute dog.”

“He's a good lad.” The dog came back with the frisbee clamped in his jaws and dropped it, shaking himself furiously. The man yelped as water splattered all over him, Mark recoiling slightly when he caught some of the water. It was ice-cold, like needles where it flicked his hands and face. “Shit, Keano.” The guy wiped water out of his eyes. “We've had this conversation.” He glanced over at Mark. “Sorry. Did he get you?”

“Only a little bit.” Mark wiped his stinging hands on his jacket, then tucked them into the sleeves, trying to warm up. “It's fine.”

“I'm sorry.” He got an apologetic smile. “He gets a bit enthusiastic.”

“It's okay. Really.” Mark glanced down at the cheerful face of the labrador, found himself smiling back. “Keano?”

“Roy Keane.”

“Ah.” Mark nodded. Football freak, obviously. It wasn't really Mark's thing, though he'd played a bit in highschool. Been more of a tennis person, had played almost every week until...

Well, running up and down a court wasn't exactly in his repertoire any more.

“Sorry. Hi. Nicky.”

“Hi.” Mark reached out, got a handshake. Nicky's hand was warm. Warmer than his, at any rate. He tucked it back into his sleeve. “Mark.”

“Hey.” Nicky grinned. Mark smiled back, not sure what else to say now that the pleasantries were over. “It's fucking cold.” The weather. Of course. Well, he'd overstayed his welcome, apparently. “You want a hot chocolate or something? I have a thermos.”

“Oh...” Mark hesitated, not having expected that at all. Still, his hip was killing him and there was a bench quite nearby. It couldn't hurt to have a bit of a rest and a warm up. “Okay. Yeah. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Nicky slung his backpack off, reaching in. A second later a silver cylinder was pulled out. He twisted the lid off, pouring into it and handing it to Mark. It was warm in his hands, not exactly steaming any more but nice enough. He took a sip, letting sugar and warm milk flood through his bones. “Still warm enough?”

“It is. Yeah. Thanks.” Mark drained the cup and handed it back, then began to move over to the bench, sinking down gratefully and watching Nicky return everything to the backpack. “Sorry. That was probably your breakfast.”

“It's hot chocolate. I can get more.” Nicky winked. Mark tried to settle, wincing as he moved.

He hadn't had breakfast yet, couldn't take anything until he did, and was sort of wishing he'd thought to bring a piece of fruit or something, just to line his stomach. He shifted again, putting his hand on his hip.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just the cold. It plays up.”

“Oh.” Nicky nodded. “You want some more hot chocolate?”

“I'm okay. Thank you, though.” He smiled, watching as the dog started to sniff in his direction, the frisbee still sitting on the sand. He reached out a hand, felt a cold nose press to his fingers, warm breaths puffing over his hand. “Hey, Keano.” He got another sniff, then a tentative lick, reached back to scratch floppy ears.

“He likes you.”

“He's got good taste.” Mark joked. Nicky laughed.

“Generally does, yeah. Admittedly he seems to like me, so I wouldn't say he's a hundred percent.”

“Yeah, but if someone fed me, walked me, and let me run around the park I'd probably like them too.”

“Should put that in the personals. Man seeks same. 29, can throw frisbee and pour biscuits in bowl.”

“They'll come running.”

“I know, right? You've just solved all my problems.” Nicky snorted. He sank down next to Mark, giving Keano a scratch on the arse as he did. “Though if I included the part about the collar and leash I'd probably get responses from the wrong sort.”

“Yeah, maybe leave that bit out.” Mark snorted. “Well, I suppose there's worse ways of finding a fella.”

“True.” Nicky chuckled, glanced down at his watch. The sun was up now, the water rippling silver and blue. It had to be after eight in the morning. “Shit, I'm sorry. I have to get going."

“It's fine.” Mark watched as the blonde stood, digging the leash out of his pocket. “Sorry. I kept you.”

“Not at all.” Nicky paused, looking at him. “You need a ride back to your car or anything? I can drop you off if...”

“I'm okay.” He was starting to feel a little better, would probably just grab some breakfast at one of the cafes and then start the walk back. It wasn't that far, not really, just felt that way when he was going a snail's pace and every step was a challenge. “Thanks, though. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Yeah.” Nicky hooked the leash back on, hefted his backpack. “I um... Do you walk here most mornings?” Mark nodded, shrugging. “Cool. I just moved into the area, so I'm still trying to sort of figure out the best spots and that. This seems okay.” He hesitated. “Might come back tomorrow.”

“I'll probably see you round then.” Mark shrugged. Nicky tugged lightly on the leash, got a happy bark in return. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

“You're welcome. Ehm. I'll see you round.” Nicky gave him a last smile, adjusted his backpack, and began to jog up the beach, Keano keeping pace. When Mark looked back out at the water Kian was sitting beside him, staring out at the waves. He'd been excited about learning to surf, had started taking lessons when they'd moved in. He had just managed to stand up, when...

“You know he was flirting with you, right?”

“Fuck off.” Mark snorted, hand flexing on the handle of his cane. It was a fairly uncool one. He hadn't wanted to get the sterile silver one, felt too much like he was in the hospital, but felt a bit naff getting something with a lion's head carved into the handle or something ridiculous like that. Just a boring black fold-up one with a comfortable rubber grip and a flat base that slid on over the end when he was using it on sand or snow. “Why would he be interested in me? I'm a mess.”

“Pretty sure he was. Can't blame him, really.”

“You're crazy.”

“Yeah.” Kian chuckled. “I'm the crazy one.”

 


	3. Chapter 2

“I um...” Mark took a deep breath, trying to take a moment to decide if this was a monumentally stupid idea. It definitely was, but at least it was a monumentally stupid idea that he wouldn't have to face the consequences of in a few days. The summer holidays had been lovely, but he was off to school in a couple of weeks, headed down to Dublin for a bit of an adventure. Living in a dorm, going to classes, getting to just _live._ To figure out who the hell he was. It sounded bloody terrifying.

This was worse.

“I'll miss you.” He managed. Kian smiled, pulling him into a friendly hug. Mark hugged back. His stuff was all packed and he was doing last rounds, saying goodbye to everyone and making empty promises to stay in touch. Shane was talking about moving to Dublin himself once he'd finished his accounting course and Mark had told him to come visit when he was in town. He didn't know if that would actually happen, but he'd said his goodbyes to everyone now.

Except Kian.

“Come visit, okay?” Kian urged. They were stood in his back garden on a beautiful summer's day, the sky clear and blue. “I'll come visit you, too. You can show me Dublin.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, hugged his friend a little tighter, felt hands squeeze on his back. “Ki... can... can I tell you something?”

“Course.” Kian pulled away slightly, though his hand still held tight to Mark's upper arm. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Um.” He took another deep breath. When he breathed out all the words came with it. That he was gay, that he'd wanted to say something for a really long time but been too scared and he thought he probably should, you know, because...

Because.

“Because I'm in love with you.” He said quietly. “And I just...” He bit his lip. “Sorry. This was a fucking stupid idea.”

“Oh.” Kian bit his lip, eyes going wide. The hand on his arm loosened. “You're in love with me?” Mark nodded, feeling his face burn. “Shit. That's um...” His laugh sounded brittle. “Wow, that's erm... that's sort of inconvenient.”

“Fuck.” Mark covered his face. “I'm really sorry.”

“No. It's fine. It's just.” Kian gulped in a deep breath. “If you'd told me like two years ago we could have had more time together instead of you fucking off to Dublin.” Mark peeked through his fingers, confused. “You fucking plonker. Now I have to come all the way down to Dublin to take you to the movies.”

“What?” Mark hedged. Kian laughed, his face going slightly red.

“I ehm...” He leaned in. Mark was frozen with surprised, still unable to move when lips touched gently to his, testing. He tested back, felt warm, soft lips part against his, a hand curl tentatively into his hair. “So yeah.” Kian said when they broke apart. “That's that, then.”

“Oh.” Mark giggled. Kian started to laugh as well.

“Mark.” He looked up, saw Kian grin. Then he glanced over his shoulder, and when he looked back his eye was full of blood, mouth opening on a gasp. There was mud in his hair. It was dark, suddenly, clouds blotting out the sky. “Get out.” He barked, reaching for the doorhandle, the frame of the car black against a sickly purple sky, rain soaking them to the bone in an instant. Then Kian was choking and they were upside down, and he was reaching, but he couldn't get through the cage of the seats, even when fingers stretched out to reach his, the crumpled back of the car dragging Kian in like a gaping mouth.

“Ki...” He snatched at disappearing fingers, and the car was flooded with sudden blinding light, nothing left but the chrome grill of a truck filling his vision.

 

*

 

When he woke his throat was raw from screaming and he was just about strangling himself in the tangle of the blankets, tears flooding his cheeks and tasting of mud, drowning in the dark.

He lay still for a long time, the echoes of his own shrieks still seeming to fill the room. Kian's last caught, choked breaths whispering in his ears. Fingers stroked gently through his hair.

“You should probably see a therapist or something.”

“No thank you.” Mark murmured back.

“The nightmares are getting worse.”

“I know.” He wiped his eyes, kicking the blankets away. Kian sighed, laying down next to him. “What if they... what if they put me on drugs or something and I can't hear you any more? Or... maybe the nightmares stop but you're gone too? I can't...”

“So you're not getting better because you're afraid you'll get better?”

“Fuck off.” Mark sighed, rolling onto his back. He heard Kian huff out a frustrated breath, turned his head to look into concerned blue eyes. “I'm okay.”

“You spent two hours rocking back and forth in the bath last night.” Kian pointed out. “That's not supposed to happen.”

“You're supposed to be alive.”

“And I'm not. So you have to stop acting like I'm coming back.”

“How can you come back if you never left?”

“How can you move on if you never let me go?”

“I'm not having this argument.”

“Of course you are.” Kian laughed. “Was it because that guy was flirting with you?”

“No.” Mark sighed. Though it was, a little bit. The guy had been cute. Mark had noticed. He hadn't wanted to notice. Had felt like he was cheating on Kian. Had almost not wanted to talk to him last night in case his fiance could somehow sense his guilt. The cheeky wink he'd gotten when he'd sunk into the bath had been enough though. Enough to make him fall apart a little bit, lost in his own thoughts until he was shivering in the ice-cold water, his fingernails bitten to the quick. “I don't want to talk about this.”

“Then why are you? I mean, it really is up to you. Talk about controlling a conversation.”

“I love you.”

“Good.” Kian nodded. “But a nice boy let you pat his dog and gave you some hot chocolate. It's not the end of the world.”

“What do you know about the end of the world?” Mark retorted, his fingers finding the red scars still etched into his wrist, four deep furrows. Kian watched, reaching out to cover them with one hand. Mark closed his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he could still see them through Kian's hand, like he was there and not there at the same time. A kiss brushed his cheek.

“By the way.” Kian said quietly in his ear. “You should probably check the clock. You're supposed to be meeting Shane at two.”

 

*

 

The cafe was warm and bright. Shane had an early finish from work and had called a couple of days before to see if Mark wanted to meet up for a cuppa and a bit of afternoon tea, then not taken no for an answer when Mark had started to waffle on about how maybe he might come, but maybe he was coming down with something so he might just see how he was feeling, and...

“You look well.”

“Thanks.” Mark snorted. He felt wretched. Tired. The scars on his face always came up brighter when he was feeling off, like a spiderweb tangle against his pale skin, crawling down from his temple to his jaw. They weren't disfiguring but a fair bit of glass had been picked out of them from the shattered back window when he'd been in that first round of surgery. He touched them self-consciously. If Shane noticed he didn't comment. “How's Gill?”

“Good. Baby's due in September, so...” He shrugged. “I can't believe I have to wait six months.”

“Excited?”

“God, yeah.” Shane grinned, stabbing at the piece of carrot cake he'd ordered. Mark had a slice of banoffee pie that he was sort of picking at, though he was on about his fifth cup of tea. “Nicole keeps telling everyone she's to have a little brother. She keeps asking me if the baby's ready yet, like it's a microwave dinner or something.”

“Cute.” Mark snorted. “She's excited then?”

“Yeah. I mean, we'll wait and see if she gets a bit jealous when it comes, but I think she'll take it in stride. She's pretty cool like that. She'll like having someone to boss around, anyway.”

“Apart from you?”

“It's not bossing if I'd do anything for her anyway.” Shane winked. “Gill wants you to come round for dinner.”

Mark sighed. Things were a bit strained with Gillian, had been since the accident. She was Kian's cousin, she'd loved him too. They'd always been like partners in crime, since right back when they were in highschool together. She always wanted to talk about him, though. Mark didn't. Didn't want to have long-winded conversations that described Kian in the past tense when he'd just finished having a conversation with him that morning about how stupid the Big Brother housemates were this year.

“When?”

“We don't have to talk about...” Shane sighed. “We can just have a meal, watch a movie. She wants to see you.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “I'm sorry. I'm being a rude shit, aren't I?”

“Yeah, but you always were.” Shane teased. Mark snorted, not able to get his smile to touch his eyes even though he tried. A hand reached out across the table. “We love you.”

“I shouldn't have to be your problem.”

“You're not. You're our friend.” He hesitated, hand squeezing Mark's. “You thought about, like... maybe dating anyone? Seeing if...?”

“Please don't.” Mark said quietly. Shane nodded.

“No. Okay.” He stabbed at his carrot cake again. “Do you want another cup of tea?”

He did. They finished their food and headed back to the car, Mark folding up his cane and tossing it under the front seat. He turned on the radio, found a station playing soft rock as they wove through the streets towards Nicole's daycare. They were doing a quick pick-up and then taking her to the park before Shane dropped Mark back off home. Mark got out to stretch his legs once they pulled into the parking lot, looking up at a bright blue and yellow building and trying to rub the stiffness out of his hip.

Shane wandered inside, leaving Mark stood against the side of the car. It was a bit overcast, but not too windy. He tugged his jacket a little tighter against the crisp January air, blowing into his hands to warm them.

Another car pulled in and he stepped back as it drew up into the space beside him and braked. A small blue hatchback that screamed 'dad', especially with the Leeds bumper sticker and the two bulky child seats in the back. He went to climb back into Shane's car, wanting to get out of the way.

The door opened. He was already halfway back in, trying to wrestle his stubborn right leg through the door, when he heard his name.

“Mark?”

He looked up. Nicky grinned at him, lifting a hand in a wave.

“Hey!” Mark replied, sounding far too enthusiastic to be remotely cool. He climbed out of the car again, smiled at the blonde man leaning against his own car, looking relaxed in a red hoodie and tight jeans, sunglasses propped up on his hair. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Nicky chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“My friend's just picking his kid up from daycare.” Mark explained, tucking his hands in his pockets. It really was bloody cold. “We're going to go to the park, so...” He shifted awkwardly, not sure where to turn the conversation from there. “You?”

“Oh, um... picking up the sprogs.”

“Oh.” Mark nodded, not sure why he'd just felt his heart sink a little. “Married?”

“Separated.” Nicky looked down at his car keys. Mark wasn't sure if they were about to do something so he looked at them too. There was an awkward laugh. “It's my weekend so I...” He shrugged. “Well.”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “How old?”

“Erm... nine months. Twin boys. Georgina went back to work last month, so they spend a bit of time in daycare. More than I'd like to be honest, but...” He shrugged. “That's life, isn't it?”

“I guess. I don't know.” Mark admitted. “Sorry, I'm probably keeping you...”

“It's fine.” Nicky smiled. “Hey, look I'm... I'm gonna walk Keano tomorrow morning around eight. Take the kids down the beach sort of thing. I might run into you?”

“Maybe.” Mark nodded. “I'll keep an eye out.”

“Cheers. Well...” Nicky pressed the fob on his keys and the headlights blinked to the sound of the car locking. “Anyway. I'll see you round.”

Mark nodded, climbing back into the car as Nicky made his way across the parking lot, keys dangling from one hand. Shane came out a moment later, Nicole walking alongside him and talking a mile a minute, a watercolour painting held carefully in one hand. She was in a second later, gabbing away while Shane buckled her into the car seat.

“Unca Mark I paint a pitcha!” She announced, holding it out. Mark reached carefully through the seats to take it, laughing at the look of pride on her face.

“That's brilliant, Nicole!” He held it up. “What is it?”

“It's mammy, and daddy...” She pointed desperately at the blobs of colour. “And a moo-cow, and a taterpillar and an aeroplay!”

“All in the one place?”

“Yes.” She stuffed her fingers in her mouth. “CnI've it back? S'mine. I made it.”

“Course you can. It's beautiful.” She snatched it back, holding it protectively to her chest. Shane began to reverse, his face split in a fond grin. Mark snorted, looking out the window.

Nicky was just coming out, a small boy held in each arm, both of them clad in denim overalls and different coloured t-shirts. The one in green had his arms around his father's neck, sucking furiously on a pacifier, the one in red was giggling. Mark found himself smiling, watching out the window until they were out of sight.

 

*

 

“He's definitely flirting with you.”

“Fuck off, Kian.” Mark sighed. Kian had been stood in the hallway when he walked in, tired from the park but feeling okay. Nicole had made about twelve new friends around the slide and Shane had spent the whole time explaining why they couldn't invite all these kids back to their place for snakes and ladders. She'd looked supremely put out at that, then had gotten distracted when Shane had produced a ball and started a clumsy game of catch with her. She'd missed almost every catch, but seemed to be having fun, and fell asleep in the car on the way back to Mark's.

“She's exhausting. You're sure you want two of those?”

“Definitely.” Shane had said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Her thumb was stuffed in her mouth. “More, if Gill will let me.”

“Maybe don't ask her again until after she's forgotten the pain.”

“Why do you think we waited three years this time around?” Shane had laughed. Mark grinned, stepping out of the car.

And now he was hanging his keys on the front hook, trying to figure out what he wanted for dinner while Kian nagged at him.

“You going to go for a walk tomorrow morning?”

“I usually do, don't I? You were the one who told me to. You said it wasn't helping my hip sitting inside all day. That I was getting weird and sad.”

“You are weird and sad.”

“Thanks.”

“No bother.” Kian was already sitting on the kitchen counter when Mark leaned in to look into the fridge. “You should eat that ravioli before it turns.”

“Are you my boyfriend or my mother?”

“Neither.” Kian shrugged. Mark sighed, looking at him. Got a lopsided smile back, the corner of Kian's mouth quirking up sympathetically. He reached through, grabbing the saucepan behind him. There was a voice behind him a second later. “He's cute. You know he's cute.”

“He's got a wife. Kids.”

“He's separated. He's nice. He likes you, for some reason.” Mark shook his head, beginning to fill the saucepan from the tap. He turned on the stove, settling the saucepan atop it and heading back to the fridge for the ravioli. Kian was right. He didn't want to go wasting good food. “I get it. You're a nice lad.”

“I'm a disaster. I have screaming panic attacks, I'm covered in fucking scars, and I do this creepy thing where I talk to my de...” He swallowed. “Dead fiance.” He looked down into water that was beginning to steam, looking at his reflection in the muddled water. When he turned back around, Kian was gone. He waited for the water to boil, plonked in the pasta, then got a sauce going with some of the herbs he had in the fridge, needing to use them too before they went off as well. Fuck he needed to order some groceries.

He drained everything off, tipped it all in a bowl and settled down on the couch a minute later with a beer. Just one. He wasn't allowed much more, not on his medication, probably shouldn't be drinking the one. But then who was going to tell him no?

“You supposed to be having alcohol?”

“No.” Mark retorted, taking a sip anyway. Kian sighed, settling in silently while Mark watched TV.

 

*

 

He tried on three different shirts before heading off on his walk that morning. Which was fucking stupid because he pulled a coat over it anyway and buttoned it tight to keep out the cold. It was a nice enough morning, fluffy white clouds spotted around the place and catching the first rays of the rising sun, the wind heading out to sea and broken by the buildings on the other side of the road. A jogger dashed past him, her runners kicking up small clouds of sand.

It took him almost half an hour to find Nicky, but when he did it was in the same spot as last time, near the same bench, Keano charging back and forth along the sand. The dog saw him first, dashing over and barking, jumping to put sandy paws on his chest.

“Keano! Down!” Nicky shouted. The dog complied, dropping back to all fours and barking excitedly. “Hey!” He waved. Mark waved back, beginning to close the last fifty or so metres while Keano bounced happily across his path.

He sank down on the bench, got a grin. He was bloody knackered. He usually walked along the wet sand, the harder surface a bit easier, but the few steps up the dry sand was hard, his feet sliding and not giving his hip any support.

The kids were sat on a towel, both in tiny parkas and little beanies with strands of blonde hair poking out from underneath. The one in the green beanie was grabbing handfuls of sand, staring at it in amazement as the grains spilled through his fingers, while the one in the red beanie giggled. Nicky sank down onto the towel next to them, carefully stopping the one in red from shoving a handful of sand into his mouth.

“Good walk?”

“S'okay.” Mark shrugged, shifting again. “You been out here long?”  
  
“Half an hour? The kids like the boats, so...” He put his hand on their backs of their heads, touching first one, then the other. “Sorry, introductions. Jay...” He pointed to the green beanie. “Rocco.” The one in red.

“They always colour coded?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know the difference, but it makes it easier. They're getting to that point where they're learning names and understanding words and I don't want them getting confused when they're called the wrong name. Just remember, R is for red and Rocco.”

“Rocco. Jay.” Mark pointed between the two of them. Got a grin. “Cool. They're identical?”

“Not really. I mean, they look it but they're... thing. Fraternal.”

“Oh.” Mark leaned forward slightly, trying to see the difference. There wasn't one, as far as he could tell. They were all big eyes, pale skin, and stubby arms. “They look like you.”

“They look like Georgina more.” Nicky sighed, climbing up and sinking down on the bench next to Mark. He dug in his backpack, pulled out a familiar thermos. “Hot chocolate?”

“Sure. Thanks.” The lid was pressed into his hand a second later, full of steaming liquid. He took a sip, smiled. “Biscuit?” He dug into his pocket, pulling out a bag of Hobnobs he'd found in the back of the cupboard. They were still good. He'd eaten three last night - just to check.

“Brilliant.” Nicky took two. They were a bit broken, but still okay. Mark ate one, reaching back into his pocket for his painkillers. His hip was starting to scream now.

“You mind if...?”

“Go ahead.” Nicky shrugged. “They for your thing, or...?”

“Yeah. Just can't have them on an empty stomach. And if I eat before I walk I just cramp up, so...” He found himself blushing, realised he was rambling. “Anyway.” He popped two in his mouth, washed them down with the hot chocolate. “Thanks for the drink.”

“More?”

“Sure.” He let Nicky fill it again, watched the blonde reach into the backpack for a styrofoam cup, which he filled for himself and lifted to his lips. “Can the kids have...” He gestured at the biscuits. “Sorry. I've no idea about kids.”

“They can. Yeah.” Nicky took a broken piece of biscuit, broke it in half again, and handed the pieces to the boys. Jay began to suck on his instantly. Rocco licked his, looked disinterested, then dropped it on the sand. Nicky snorted a laugh. “Well, one out of two ain't bad. They're teething a bit at the moment so it's sort of hit and miss.” He glanced at Mark again. “Can I be really rude and ask about the stick?”

“Car accident.” Mark sighed. He was used to this line of questioning but didn't much like it. Probably one of the reasons he hadn't really made any new friends in the last couple of years. There was too much explaining to do. “Shattered my hip.”

“Shit.” Nicky breathed. “That's rough.”

“Yeah. It wasn't great.” Mark took a deep breath, trying to calm down his suddenly racing heart. He looked around for Kian, but couldn't see him. Not with so much going on. “Dislocated shoulder, broken arm...” He shrugged. “I spent a lot of time in surgery.”

“I can imagine. I'm sorry.” Fingers touched his knee lightly. “Anybody else hurt?”

“I...” Mark shook his head. The lorry driver had had a massive stroke behind the wheel, been dead before he'd even hit them. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“No. That's fine. Sorry.” Nicky's cheeks turned a little pink. “Shit.” Awkward silence descended for a long moment. Jay continued to suck on the biscuit, drool flooding down his chin, his mouth a gaping smile with just two teeth in top and two in bottom, like a rabbit. “More hot chocolate?”

“Okay.” Mark nodded, holding out the lid. “Hobnob?”

“Sure.” Nicky took one. “Rocco?” The toddler looked over, head wobbling around on chubby neck. “Don't eat sand, mate.” He sighed, sinking to his knees to sort it out, tugging the corner of his shirt out through the bottom of his hoodie and wiping grit off the kid's face. “I swear, don't want a nice biscuit, but you'll eat half the beach. Look...” He pointed out at the water. “See the boat?” Rocco laughed and clapped his hands, looking distracted from the culinary delights of sand. “Look at the boat!”

“That's a quality boat.”

“It is.” Nicky smirked, sitting on the sand and leaning back against the bench so he could keep a better eye on them. “As far as boats go.” He looked up at Mark. “Look, thanks for... I don't know. Coming the same way you would have come, anyway, I suppose.” He laughed bashfully. “I don't have many friends in the area, and since me and G broke up it's been a bit awkward with our old ones. Ditching your wife because you're probably gay isn't exactly endearing.”

“Is that what happened?”

“Yeah. Except I'm definitely gay.” Nicky sighed. “Which we sort of knew a while ago, I guess. We were going to split up anyway, and then we got a bit drunk and had a shag. You know, last ditch go to see if we could make it work, and then I move out and two months later I get a call saying...” He looked down at the boys. “Not that I wish they hadn't happened. Not for a second, but...” He shook his head. “It's all a bit complicated. Funny thing is, we were trying for ages, and then when we weren't...”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Blue eyes turned on him. “Sorry. You don't want to hear this.”

“It's fine.” Mark shrugged. “So how's being gay treating you?”

“Same as it ever did, really.” Nicky laughed. “I don't know. I had a couple of fumbles while I was still married. Felt horrible about it, obviously, but it was the sort of thing where we'd been together since I was fifteen and by the time I started to grow up and realised those feelings weren't going to go away, actually, we were engaged and my mam was excited and...” He shrugged. “I don't know. It all felt a bit inevitable. I shagged one of my groomsmen on the stag night.”

“Whoops. Did she find out?”

“Not until later.” Nicky looked up. “I sound like an arsehole.”

“No. I mean, I guess I'm sort of lucky. I've sort of known since I was younger, got it all out of way when I was around nineteen. It was terrifying at the time.”

“So you are gay.” Nicky's eyes sparkled slightly. “I thought so, but I didn't want to ask.”

“I am.” Mark confirmed.

“You've had way more experience than me, then.”

“No, not really.” He twisted the engagement ring automatically, saw Nicky's eyes lock onto it in surprise.

“You're in a relationship.” He almost looked disappointed. Mark wasn't sure how to feel about that. It was sort of nice to see someone disappointed that he was apparently off the market. “Sorry. I think I've been, y'know, flirting with you a bit. I feel like an idiot now.”

“No. It's...” He shoved his hand back in his pocket. “I'm not. He's...” He swallowed hard, felt tears touch his eyes. “Shit. I'm sorry.” He wiped them, saw Nicky bite his lip, concerned, then reach into his backpack.

“Here.” He held out some tissues. They had the penguins from Happy Feet on them. “Sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah. No.” He breathed in deep, trying to drag in a shuddering gasp of air while he wiped his eyes. He wasn't flooding tears, but his vision was getting hazy. “He was... when I was in the car accident...”

“Oh, Jesus.” Nicky covered his mouth, eyes widening in realisation. “God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean. Fuck.” He pulled himself up onto the bench, and a hand touched his shoulder a moment later, warm through his coat. He stared out at the water to try to get himself under control, fixing his eyes on the boat drifting towards the horizon. “Are you okay?”

“I'm okay.” His voice sounded thick. He swallowed hard. “Sorry.”

“No. Shit.” They sat there in silence for a long time. Mark thought about leaving. His face was blazing with embarrassment but he knew he couldn't move fast enough to escape and Nicky's hand was still on his shoulder.

 

*

 

Nicky dropped him off. Insisted, actually, the two boys burbling behind them in the car seats, giggling and babbling something that might have been 'da', Keano curled up patiently, squashed between them.

“I'll see you tomorrow morning?” Nicky said quietly. Mark hesitated, not sure. A hand touched his, reaching out across the centre console. “I'll bring hot chocolate again.”

“Okay.” He said finally. Managed a nod. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” Nicky nodded.

He let himself in, collapsed back into bed almost immediately, yanking the blankets tightly around him, warmth clasped to his back. Kian's hands tightened on his stomach.

“It's okay if you want to cry for a bit.” He said quietly.

Mark did as he was told, the pillow growing damp under his cheek.

 


	4. Chapter 3

Mark stretched slightly on the blanket, hands behind his head. The stars were sprinkled across the sky like glitter on velvet, Kian's fingers drawing delicate circles on his chest. He was still coming down, trying to make his legs stop trembling after they'd had rather spectacular sex, water lapping the shore, the safety of the tent long forgotten when Kian had rolled on top and kissed him so softly, like he was breathing him in, and they'd made low, desperate love to the beat of the crickets chirping in the trees, the frogs in the lake keeping time. It had been pathetically corny, totally cliché, and profoundly wonderful when Kian had gasped his name, clutched at his back and spilled into his hand, Mark following over a second later, unable to help himself when everything had tightened, crying out into the crook of Kian's shoulder while his boyfriend had whimpered against him with every thrust.

“Marky?” Kian whispered. Mark brought a hand down, taking his, cradling it to his chest and feeling his heart still trying to slow.

“Yeah?”

“Can we do this forever?”

Mark glanced over, saw a bitten lip, eyes that were still dark and dazed with sex. He'd missed that face, so much, had counted down the seconds until he could come home from university for the holidays, connect with Kian in a way that wasn't just phone calls and emails.

“I'd like that.” He said back. Got a sated grin. “I love you. It hurts when we're not together.”

“I know.” Kian shuffled a little closer. Soft hair pooled in his shoulder and he ran fingers through it, feeling the long strands slide. A kiss brushed his collarbone. “Don't ever leave me, okay?”

“No.” Mark promised. “I won't. You've got me forever.”

“Good.” Kian yawned, looking cute and sleepy in the moonlight. His face lifted for a kiss, and they stayed there like that for a long time, fingers moving over each other's skin, until he fell asleep with lips still pressed to his own.

 

*

 

“Thought I'd scared you off.” Nicky commented when Mark finally limped up. Dawn was coming a little later now, but it was still dark. He hadn't come this far in almost a week, had stopped just short every morning. Once he'd made it almost all the way, had actually sighted Nicky playing with Keano, but then had baulked, turning around and heading back the way he'd come, hoping he hadn't been seen.

“Sorry.” Mark scratched the back of his neck, trying to think what to say. “It's been a weird week.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” He sank down onto the bench. Nicky tossed the frisbee again. Mark looked out at the sea, watching a tall yacht drift across the horizon, gathering speed as it went. “I wanted to come. I just...”

“It's fine.” Nicky glanced over his shoulder, but was distracted a moment later when Keano rushed back up, dropping the frisbee at his feet. “Hot chocolate's in my backpack. Help yourself.”

“Cheers. I brought Oreos.” Mark announced, digging in his pocket for the tube. Within a minute he had a small feast set up. Nicky sank down next to him, picking up his portion. “No kids today?”

“No. Only on weekends.” He took a bite of his Oreo. “Suppose it's fair. I wasn't even living there when she had them. Could probably go for more but I don't see the judge going 'well, you knocked up your wife and then fucked off to shag lads, so by all means, here's full custody'. She's fairly class about visitation. You've gotta give her that. I probably wouldn't have taken it so well.”

“She took it alright?”

“At first? No. God, no. I think we'd have been fine not seeing each other again, but... I guess I always wanted kids. She did too. It was just a shame the way it turned out. Neither of us really meant to be raising them separately, so we just try our best to raise them together. We live apart, so one of has had to have them. I think she's seeing a guy at her work, to be honest. She's a personal trainer. Lots of fit blokes about.”

“You're fit.”

“Cheers.” Nicky snorted. Mark felt his cheeks go hot. “Too bad she's not my type.”

“Too bad.” Mark agreed. “You seeing anyone, then?”

“No. Not really.” He took another sip of his hot chocolate. Keano was chasing seagulls, looking well pleased. “I did the shag when I was with her. Feels a bit dirty now. I'm better in a relationship, anyway. It's not really a great pick-up line though. Hi, I'm almost thirty, have two babies, and I'm paying child support.”

“Decent job at least?”

“Karaoke DJ.” Nicky winced. “Not exactly a money earner.”

“That's cool, though.” Mark nudged him slightly, got a small smile back. “Where at?”

“Four or five places. Cart the machine around to pubs and private parties and that. It's hit and miss on work, but sometimes you have a good couple of months. I had a bit of a permanent place at the Dog and Barrow in town, but that closed down so now I'm just sort of making ends meet. What are you doing?”

“Honestly? Nothing at the moment.” Mark shrugged. “I was a teacher before...” He gestured vaguely at his leg. “Funny, isn't it? Three years of university, two years of teaching, and it's all for nothing.” And the wasted time. It hurt to think of it. How every moment he'd spent in a lecture, or in front of a class, or stuck in traffic could have been one more moment he could have spent with Kian.

“You can't go back?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I get...” His heart felt like it was hammering in his throat all of a sudden. He closed his eyes, tried to get a handle on it. Felt fingers squeeze his shoulder. But when he opened his eyes again they were Nicky's. He didn't know how to explain how much that hurt. He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes again. Felt Kian touch his other shoulder.

“I've got you, babe.” Kian said quietly. “Deep breath.” He obeyed, nodded when he felt a kiss brush his cheek. “Stop freaking out.”

“Sorry.” He murmured.

“For what?”

“No, um...” He looked at Nicky, realising he'd said that last bit out loud. “Sorry. Um. No. I have... I get flashbacks sometimes. Or... I don't know. Episodes I guess. Just.” He watched his own fingers knit awkwardly together. “I got quite a bit in damages. Not enough that I never need an income again, but once I combine that with disability pension and stuff... I'm okay. People keep telling me to go back but...”

“Yeah, but if you're not ready.”

“I'm not.” He said quietly. Nicky nodded. “I...” He closed his eyes again. The glare of the sunrise was starting to come up over the beach, leaving bright spots dancing behind his eyelids. “He was alive afterwards. And then I watched him die before the ambulance got there.”

“Jesus.” Nicky breathed. Mark felt like he was about to throw up, was glad when Nicky didn't say anything else, letting him swallow it back down before he lost control of himself. The fingers left his shoulder.

“Sorry. This is weird.” He said finally. “People always ask and it's just... awkward. And they're obvious questions. Do you have a boyfriend, what do you do, what's with the cane, but...”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.”

“It's fine. People keep telling me I don't talk about it enough, that maybe I should see someone professional. Get over it, like, but...”

“How the fuck are you supposed to get over that? I'd fucking slap someone if they told me to get over that.”

“Thanks.” Mark laughed. “I think you're the first person who's agreed with me.”

“People are idiots.” Nicky grimaced. “What do you do, then? If you're not working.”

Mark snorted. “You'll laugh.” Nicky raised an eyebrow, fingers finding their way back to his shoulder. “I write songs. On my computer. I um...” He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “I used to do it when I was kid, and then I... I dunno. I had a lot of free time all of a sudden.”  
  
“And a lot of shit bottled up, I'd say.” Mark nodded, surprised by how easily Nicky had finished his thought. “Well, good for you. Are you any good?”

“I don't know. I mean, I can sing alright, but...” He glanced around. “I like a lot of like... old soul and blues stuff. You know. Like the kind of stuff that's like an experience instead of just 'I love you'. Where it's about sadness and anger and all that. Real stuff.” He felt himself blush. Nicky nodded, though. “Not saying love isn't real, but it's not as easy as pop songs. You know. It's other things, all wrapped up together.”

“It's complicated. And a lot of the time it sucks while it's busy being great.” Nicky agreed. “No. I get you.” He reached for the thermos, slid it back into his backpack. “I'd like to hear some of your stuff, honestly. It sounds right up my alley.”

“It's not that good.”

“I listen to drunk college girls blurt out American Pie three times a week. Believe me, I have an ear for what's rubbish.”

“Then you're definitely not hearing my stuff.” Mark snickered awkwardly, got a bright smile. Nicky stood, stretching slightly. He really was cute, a sliver of a trim stomach bared when his arms went above his head, pale skin and the slight swell of a hip bone peeking up over a low-slung belt. “You off?”  
  
“In a minute, yeah.” Nicky nodded. “But... look, I'll be here tomorrow morning. If you're walking this way again.” He actually seemed to be blushing a little and Mark didn't know what to do with that, with the obvious bashful hope on his face. “Just saying.”

“I should be here.” Mark hedged. “If I don't for some reason...”

“No offence taken.” Nicky raised his hand. “Do your thing. Just... you know. Company's nice.” He smiled. Mark buried his hands in the pockets of his coat, not sure what to say.

“It is. Yeah.” He managed to say back. “I'd better start back, anyway.”

“You want a ride?”

“No. Erm.” He sucked in a breath. “It's fine. I sort of just want to...”

“No. I get it.” Fingers squeezed his shoulder again. Mark pulled himself to his feet, unfolding the cane again and attaching the flat base.

“I'm going to start walking. But...” He paused, studying Nicky, who was smiling. “This was nice. So. You know. Thanks. I'll be here tomorrow.”

“Thanks back.” Keano returned, dripping water and looking pleased with himself. They both reached to pat him at the same time, Mark pulling back awkwardly when their fingers touched. If Nicky noticed, he didn't mention it, just took a knee and clipped the leash on. Mark watched, patting the dog's head again.

He was halfway back when Kian fell into step beside him.

“You fancy him.”

Mark rolled his eyes, ignoring the teasing look he was get him.

“Fuck off.”

“You say that to me a lot, you know.” Kian pointed out. “Is it actually because you want me to fuck off, or just because I say shit you don't want to hear?” Mark dismissed it with a shake of his head, trying to look casual when another jogger dashed past him, though his headphones were plugged in and he didn't seem to be paying attention to anything but the sand in front of him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Do you have to?”

“That's sort of up to you, really.” Kian shrugged. “Do you want me to ask?”

“Depends what it is.”

“You already know what it is.”

Mark sighed. Yeah. He did. “I'm not going to start anything with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” He bit his lip, staring determinedly up the coast. The cane was slipping a little as the sand started to dry in the morning sun. He moved closer to the water where it was a bit firmer. “You know why.”

“Because of me? Come on.”

“Would you want me to?”

“Why does it matter? I won't know anyway.”

“No, but I will.” He paused, feeling his hip start to throb. He hadn't taken his painkillers yet, but didn't have anything to take them with. He wished he'd thought of that while they were having hot chocolate but he'd been caught in conversation and not thought of it. It hadn't really hurt then, anyway. Now it was blazing. “He's nice. We get along. I'm allowed to have a friend.”

“He's just a friend?”

“I've never loved anyone but you.”

“I've never done a lot of things. It doesn't mean I can't.”

“Kian...” He glanced over, saw the sunlight catch golden hair. “It sort of does, doesn't it? I mean, if you didn't do it before, you're certainly not doing it now. It's not like you can finally get around to surfing in Hawaii, is it?”

“I've only just learned to stand up. Give me a minute.” A sombre smile twisted full lips. “I didn't have time. You have loads.”

“I'd give it up to have you back.” Mark said quietly. Fingers brushed his. “Please come back.” He expected a response to that, but when he turned to look there was nothing but the sun glaring down over the waves, the cackling of seagulls.

He shook his head, heading for home.

 

*

 

“Can I get you a tea or something, Marky?”

“Thanks, Gill.” He nodded, glancing back over his shoulder to where her head was stuck out through the kitchen door. “Bit of milk, one sugar?”

“Coming up.” She disappeared again. Shane looked over at him, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Thanks for coming.”

“It's cool. Free meal.” Nicole was playing on the floor, mucking about with some MegaBloks, which were spread out across a blanket to keep them all together. “Can't wait until she graduates to Lego.” Mark pointed out. “Like little boobytraps all over the floor.”

“Nothing like stepping a Lego brick at two in the morning.” Shane agreed. “Though you'd still do yourself a damage on one of those. We're learning about tidying up after ourselves ever since I slipped on one of her matchbox cars.”

“How's that going?”

“Good. It's going in the same lesson as 'not repeating every word daddy says when he slips on one of her matchbox cars'.”

“Ooh, was it the really bad ones?”

“There was a variety of words said, yes.” Shane nodded, laughing. “It wasn't very dignified.”

“I can imagine not.” A mug of tea landed on the table in front of him. “Thanks Gill.” She tousled his hair on the way back to the kitchen, giving him a smile. “She's quiet.”

“She's okay. I think...” Shane shrugged. “I don't know. I sort of suggested we keep the K word to a minimum. You know. Just have a nice meal.”

“Oh.” Mark nodded. God, if there was one thing he hated as much as having to talk about it, it was people trying desperately to not talk about it. In his absence Kian had managed to have a presence all by himself, like a black hole. Like he was gravity, sucking everything in. “We can talk about Kian. It's fine. I just don't want to like... _talk_ about it.”

“I get ya.” Shane nodded, though Mark didn't think he did, really. How hard it was to just talk about that one time they'd all gone camping, or that one time they'd gone to a carnival together and Shane had thrown up a rainbow of candy floss behind the rollercoaster, or that one time, or that one time. Without tacking on the inevitable 'remember that one time... before Kian was dead'. How he couldn't think of any of the times with Shane without thinking about Kian. How he didn't really want to, because it would be like pretending Kian had never existed.

“Remember that time you three visited me at college and we got so drunk we couldn't remember where my room was?” Mark said slowly. Shane looked up, studying him carefully. “And we ended up sleeping in the hallway?”

“And when we woke up we were right outside your room after all?” Shane finished, a smile flitting over his lips. Mark nodded, feeling a laugh bite at him. “God, I've never been so hungover in my life. Young and stupid, right?”

“Yeah. And Kian...” Mark paused, then pressed on, knowing there wasn't much point stopping now. “Kian threw up on my room-mate's bed.”

“And he said it was okay, because your room-mate was a twat.” Gillian said quietly. Mark turned to look. She was standing in the doorway, a tea-towel settled into her chest in a clenching fist.

“My room-mate _was_ a twat.” Mark agreed. “He once told me that you couldn't really appreciate the Iliad until you read it in the original Latin, and I told him it was originally in Greek, and he said he knew that, but that the Latin gave him a deeper appreciation of Homer's work. Twat.”

“Massive twat.” Shane echoed. Gillian laughed, beginning to edge into the room. “How did he react, by the way? I never found out.”

“He cried and said I was disrespectful. That he appreciated my life choices and that I should appreciate his personal space.”

“Right, so because he wasn't homophobic, your boyfriend shouldn't throw up on his bed?”

“He was a twat.” Mark repeated, shrugging. “He kept trying to Feng Shui our room. I just wanted to be able to reach my stereo without having to worry about the flow or the space or whatever. For two semesters I had to step around the potplant he shoved in the middle of the room so it would balance our natural harmony. Kian poured salt in the dirt when he wasn't looking. The twat couldn't figure out why it was dying.”

Gillian started to laugh, her hand dropping down by her side. Mark did too. Shane snickered, reaching for his cup of tea.

“That sounds exactly like something he'd do.” She smirked, still giggling. “Cheeky git.”

“Yeah, he is. Was.” Mark amended. He saw her face fall a little bit, the tea-towel come back up to dangle from her fist. Shane swallowed, staring fixedly at Nicole. “Anyway.”

“Yeah.” She said quietly. “Ehm... dinner's on. Shane, can you get Nicole into her chair please?”

 

*

 

He climbed into bed late. Dinner had gotten a little easier after that. They'd just had a nice meal, chatted about nothing and everything. It hadn't felt like they were steering around Kian, they just talked about other things. What was going on with their lives and families. Mark really needed to go visit his family. He didn't go home often. There were too many memories there, too much raw hurt. Not that this place was any better, looking at the furniture they'd picked out together, the photographs on the walls. Kian's reading glasses were still in the drawer on his side of the bed. His aftershave still in the cupboard above the sink. He'd bought tickets to an Alice Cooper concert and they were still stuck to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a smiley-face, going yellow with age.

“You should probably take your painkillers.” Kian said quietly through the haze of him beginning to doze off. “I know you don't want them now, but you don't want to wake up at three in the morning with your whole side cramping up.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Mark murmured, stumbling into the bathroom, one hand on the wall to keep his balance. He was usually okay for little distances like this, but it was late and he was wrecked. He took two, washed them down with water, and stumbled back to bed, sinking into the pillow. “Cheers.”

“No problem.” Fingers stroked gently through his hair. “Go to sleep, love. I'll be here.”


	5. Chapter 4

Kian was all snuggled up in bed, looking wet and blotchy and pale. Mark sank down next to him, putting a hand on his forehead. He felt hot, slimy with sweat. Kian sneezed and Mark yanked his hand back out of the splash zone.

“Gross.” He wiped it on the sheets.

“Sorry.” Kian winced, grabbing another tissue. He blew, a great honking blow that sounded like it had chunks in it. He coughed, covering his mouth, eyes streaming tears. “Fuck this."

“Poor thing.” Mark soothed, brushing sweaty hair back from his face. “You want some more tea?”

“No. Too hot.” He began to kick the blankets awkwardly off but Mark stopped him, tucking them back in.

“Stay warm.” He ordered. “Are you wearing socks?”

“Yes.” Kian mumbled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “You're mean.”

“I'm not mean. I'm taking care of you.” Mark chuckled. Kian looked up at him, eyes red and beseeching. “Can I get you anything? Juice?”

“No.” He coughed again, covering his mouth. “Can you bring the TV in?”

“I can do that.” Mark nodded, standing up. He wandered out into the living room. Their current apartment was a little smaller than the last one, but it was closer to the school Mark was practice teaching at. Kian had gotten a part-time job at the local HMV, had worked there for three weeks before being struck down with the flu.

They did this a lot, pushing the television between the living room and bedroom, had it plugged into an extension cord for just this purpose. Mark carried it through, putting it on the chest of drawers and trying not to trip on the cord getting stretched out behind him. He adjusted the reception then turned to look at Kian, to check if it was okay.

He was fast asleep.

“Ki...” He sighed, feeling an affectionate smile cross his face. His mouth was wide open, the blanket still tucked up around his chest. Mark turned the TV down low, found a channel playing midday talk shows, then settled in beside him to keep watch, fingers running carefully through sweaty hair.

 

*

 

When he woke up his throat hurt and his nose was blocked. He coughed, rolling over onto his side and trying to breathe, his joints twinging painfully. It was still dark outside, but the clock pegged it as just before seven, frost built up on windows and muting the first twitters of birds. He managed to sit up, coughing hard and trying to clear out his chest.

“You sound like crap.”

“Thanks.” He dragged in a breath and started to cough again when he felt it scrape up the length of his throat. “Fuck this.”

“Yeah, that sucks.” Kian snorted. “Why aren't you wearing socks?”

“Why are you nagging me?”

“I'm not. I'm taking care of you.” Kian replied. “Go have a really hot shower, blow your nose, put some socks on, and get the hell back into bed.”

“I was supposed to go for a walk.”

“It's fucking freezing out there. Get back into bed.” Kian looked at him sympathetically. “Is this because of Nicky? Because I thought you weren't interested.”

“I'm not. It'd just be rude. I said I'd go.”

“He'll get over it. You didn't show up for a week and he was still there, right?” Kian raised an eyebrow. He was good at the condescending eyebrow. Mark sighed, relenting.

He climbed out of bed and did as he was told, turning the shower on as hot as he could without it scalding and breathed in deep, felt the steam clear his sinuses. He blew his nose into his hands. It was probably gross, but it wasn't like anyone was there to see. When he stepped out he put on his warmest pyjamas, grabbed the duvet off the bed, and sank down on the couch.

“I said bed.”

“The TV's here. Anyway, I'm wearing socks.” Mark retorted. He reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table and wrapped himself tighter in the blankets, wiping his nose. Kian perched on the arm of the couch, looking at him.

“You're cute when you're sick.”

“Does it make me conceited that you just said that?”

“I don't know. It sounds like something I'd probably say.” Kian shrugged. Mark snorted. He was right. Like always. “You want a cup of tea?”

“Yes please.” Kian tilted his head, giving him a funny look.

“You know I can't actually do that for you, right? Not unless we're hitting new levels of you being delusional. Is that something we're doing?”

“I don't know. I'm sick. Don't make me psychoanalyse myself.”

“Okay. Well, get yourself a cup of tea or don't. I'm off.”  
  
“Where are you going?”

“Dunno.” Kian shrugged, glancing over at the television. “I'm not watching this shit, though. And you're about five seconds from falling asleep, honestly, so I was probably about to disappear anyway. You should check the warnings on the cold and flu stuff though, if you're about to take some. You don't want it having a reaction with your pain meds.”

“Thanks.”

“It's what I do.” Kian pushed himself off the couch. A second later he was gone. Mark turned back to the breakfast program, watching the vapid hosts laugh over a cute puppy video while sleep tugged at his eyes.

 

*

 

He was woken by a knock on the door. The time on the clock above the fireplace said just after ten, though it took a second to focus on the hands when his eyes were all gummed up with sleep. He sat up, heard another knock, and yanked the duvet tighter around his shoulders, padding down the hall in his socks. He could just see a shape through the frosted glass set into the door and sighed, hoping it wasn't a bloody Jehovah's Witness or something. If it was, he decided he'd at least try to cough on the bastard before he slammed the door.

When he opened it, Nicky was stood there, shifting from foot to foot while he fiddled with his sunglasses. Keano was beside him, panting happily.

“Hey.” Mark croaked in surprise. “What, erm...”

“Hi. Sorry. Hi.” Nicky blushed a little, hooking the sunglasses into the collar of his shirt. “Sorry, this is awkward but you didn't come to the beach and I just thought I'd check...”  
  
“You're checking on me?” Mark asked blankly, not sure how to make sense of it. “I'm um...” He tugged the blanket tighter, trying to hide his ratty pyjamas. “Sorry. I'm just... I woke up with a cold, so...”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Nicky's laugh was hollow and embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Mark laughed despite himself, taking a step back. “I'm fine. I don't want to infect you.”

“You need anything? Like... I could go to the pharmacy or...?”

“I'm fine. It's just a cold.” The concern on Nicky's face was lovely, if baffling. “I'm okay. I'll just stay in front of the television and drink lots of tea and be fine in a few days.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Nicky bit his lip. “Do you have someone taking care of you?”

Mark shook his head. “No. Just me.” He glanced around at the empty hallway. “I'm fine though.”

“Yeah, but...” Nicky peered down the hall as well. “You want me to make you some breakfast or something? Get the kettle on or...?”  
  
“I can work the kettle.”  
  
“Yeah.” Nicky looked pained. “Look, I don't like the idea of you being sick by yourself. Can I make you a cup of tea anyway? Please? It'd make me feel better.”

“You'll get sick.”

“I'll risk it.” Nicky shrugged. Mark glanced back again, trying to remember what sort of state the house was in. He wasn't horribly messy, but couldn't remember when he'd last had a proper tidy and vacuum. When he looked back Nicky was still looking expectant.

The living room wasn't so bad, in the end. Nicky followed him through, put Keano out in the backyard, and asked where the kitchen was. The kettle flicked on as Mark sank back onto the couch, tucking himself in under the blanket. Nicky came back out a second later.

“Teabags?”

“Um... pantry, second shelf down, next to the cereal.”  
  
“Cheers.” Nicky paused in the doorway. Mark looked over, wondering what was up. He was staring at the wall beside the kitchen door, peering at a framed photo. “This is your fella?”  
  
“Yeah. That's Kian.” He knew the photo without looking at it. Kian's birthday, the two of them with their arms around each other in front of a massive birthday cake glowing with candles.

“His birthday or yours?”

“His twenty-first.” Mark confirmed. “I came home from university for the weekend.”

“Where's home?”

“Sligo.” Sort of. He didn't think he'd called it home in three or four years. Home had just been wherever Kian was. He wasn't really sure where it was now, if this was home because Kian was always here, or if he had no home at all. “He moved to Dublin with me about two months after that.”

“He's really cute.” Nicky commented. “You snagged a good one.”

“I did. Yeah.” Mark tugged the blanket a little tighter. “He got me.”

“Are you hard to get?”

“You'd be surprised. I'm not exactly normal.”

“Seem alright to me.” The kettle clicked off. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Yes and one.” Mark confirmed. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The blonde disappeared back into the kitchen, came back a minute or so later with two steaming mugs. Mark accepted one, taking a sip. Nicky sank down beside him. “I am sorry for barging in. I probably look like a right mental.”  
  
“You're fine.” Mark snorted. “I've always wanted a stalker.”

“I've always wanted to stalk someone!” Nicky exclaimed, looking delighted. Mark found himself laughing. “This is bloody perfect! Do you think we should get matching t-shirts?”

“Let me get well first, and then I'll think about it.” Mark laughed, taking another sip of his tea. “It's a big decision to make when I'm hopped up on pain medication and flu tablets.”

“Are you?”

“Not yet.” Mark sighed. “Haven't had breakfast yet. Once I do I'll take some stuff.” He shifted awkwardly, as though talking about it had aggravated his hip somehow. It twinged badly. He put his hand on it, trying to get his weight in the right spot.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. It's a thing. I'm used to it.” He shifted again, wincing.

“I'll make you some breakfast.” Nicky put his mug down, standing back up again. Mark went to protest, to say Nicky could at least finish his tea first, but he was already dashing into the kitchen, clattering around in the pantry. “You want toast?”

“You don't have to...”

“I'm making you toast...! You want...” The was a pause while things shifted on the shelves. “Nutella, peanut butter, jam...”  
  
“Nutella?” He called back. The pantry door closed again. He heard the twang of the toaster button being pressed, then Nicky came back out, leaning over the back of the couch. “You really don't have to.”

“I know. I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Nicky gave him a grin. “I'm an extremely considerate stalker.”  
  
“Could be worse, I suppose.” Mark teased. “You could be one of those inconsiderate stalkers. Doesn't refill the toilet paper holder, takes up disabled parking spots...”

“Plays rap music at two in the morning...” Nicky chuckled. “No. Like, when I'm tailing you from a safe distance I always make sure I stop to help old ladies cross the street.”

“What if you lose me?”

“It's okay. I know where you live.” Nicky winked. The toaster popped in the other room. “Ooh, toast!” He buzzed away again, leaving Mark laughing despite himself.

“I like him.” Kian said, sinking down into the seat Nicky had vacated. “He makes you laugh.”

“Shh.” Mark hissed, glancing at the kitchen. “Not right now.”

“You say something?”

“No!” Mark called back. Kian winked at him, rolling his eyes when Mark gave him the finger. “You're supposed to be jealous.” He whispered.

“Why?” Kian shrugged. “You said you don't fancy him. Like you said, you're allowed to have friends.”

“You're twisting my words.”

“How so?” Full lips twisted into a smirk while Mark rolled his eyes. “He can make you a cup of tea. I can't do that, can I?”

“Now I fancy him because he can make me tea?”

“No. You fancy him because he's cute and charming and funny and nice. And because he obviously fancies you.”

“Why would anyone fancy me?”

“I'm sure I have no idea.” Kian huffed. Mark stuck his tongue out.

“What you doing?”

Blushing, Mark put his tongue away, taking the plate of toast that was handed to him.

“Um... old wives tale. Stick out your tongue when you're sick.”

“What's that supposed to do?”

“Dunno. Thought it was worth a try.” He switched topics. Kian had vanished anyway. He'd be back, though. He always was. “Thanks for this. I appreciate it.”  
  
“No problems.” Nicky grabbed the remote. “You mind if I change the channel? I hate these bloody morning shows.”  
  
“Yeah.” Mark smirked. “Me too.”

 

*

 

He fell asleep on the couch after he took his medication. When he woke up Nicky was watching the football game, sipping a fresh cup of tea. It was maybe three in the afternoon. He looked over in surprise, not sure why the other man was even there for a second until it all came rushing back. He coughed as he sat up, covering his mouth.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Fell asleep.” He coughed harder, hearing a soothing sound while Nicky began to rub his back gently, hand warm and careful on his shoulders. “Sorry.” He muttered again, feeling his voice burn in his throat.

“It's okay.” Nicky's voice was soft and comforting. “Poor kid. You're all yucky.”

“I'm twenty-seven.”

“I'm a dad. I can't help it. It's... thing. Innate.” He pursed his lips. Mark wiped his eyes, feeling them stream with tears of effort as the coughing started to abate. “You were talking in your sleep.”

“Was I? Shit. Sorry.” He felt his cheeks burn, wondering if he'd said anything really embarrassing. “Did I say anything stupid?”  
  
“No. Not really. Making sounds, I guess. I think you said 'fuck off, Kian' at one point.”

“That sounds like me.” Mark grimaced. “Well, as long as I kept the screaming to a minimum.”

“Screaming? Seriously?” Nick raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Does that happen often?”

“Yes. No.” He settled back against the couch now that the coughing was done, pulling the blankets in tight around his chest. “Sometimes, maybe.” He admitted. Nicky's face was all concern. “I'm fine. Really. Or... better, I guess. It mostly seems to happen when I'm asleep now, which I suppose is better than having a fit on the floor of a nightclub toilet.”

“Shit. Really?”

Mark nodded, not sure how to approach this story without sounding crazy. Without mentioning the fact that Kian had been there the whole time, hands reaching for him under the toilet stall, scrabbling for him while he was dragged away and mud filled the bottom of the cubicle, soaking up to Mark's knees.

“Some lad hit on me. About six months after... My mates just wanted to take me out, you know? I wasn't home from the hospital long and they meant well I guess but...”  
  
“Too much too soon.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I freaked out a bit. You know. What would Kian think, sort of thing. Which doesn't make sense but... it was just too much. So I sat on the toilet floor for about twenty minutes, didn't know where I was, and then my friend Shane came and found me. Drove me home.”  
  
“Nice of him.”  
  
“Yeah, Shane's good.” Mark said honestly. “He's about the only friend I still have, with all of this going on. Everyone else got a bit sick of my shit, but he was Kian's friend too so I think he feels a bit responsible. And he's married to Kian's cousin, so... I don't know. You might know him, actually. His daughter's in the same daycare as Rocco and Jay. Nicole Filan.”

“Doesn't ring a bell.” Nicky shook his head. “Georgina'd probably know, though. She knows all the mammies.” The hand caressed his shoulders again, warm and gentle. “Do you want me to make you some more toast?”

“Yeah. Please.” Mark looked up. “Can you grab me some more pills, actually? They'll be in the bathroom off the bedroom. Cabinet above the sink.” The hip was throbbing again, the awkward sleep on the couch having put pressure on it in all the wrong places, and he didn't much like the idea of trying the stairs again. Nicky nodded, pushing himself up. “Should be a little white bottle with a blue lid.” Feet thudded up the stairs while Mark lay back down, trying to figure out if it was weird sending Nicky through his bedroom. It wasn't like there was anything incriminating in there, he supposed. He didn't think he even had any condoms in the house.

“There is my vibrator.” Kian reminded him.

“He's not going through your drawer, though, is he?”

Nicky brought down the pills, got him a glass of water, and sorted out toast. It was sort of nice. He didn't look put out at all, just fluttered around the place making sure everything was taken care of, then when it got dark he built a fire in the hearth, and Mark got him to bring Keano inside out of the cold, salvaging a bit of leftover lamb from the fridge that Mark hadn't gotten around to eating. The dog lay happily in front of the fire, gnawing at the bones while they chatted idly about nothing much. By the time Nicky started yawning Mark realised it was almost nine-thirty.

“Shit, I'm sorry. I'm imposing.” Nicky glanced at his watch. “Time got away from me. You probably want to go to bed or something.”

“It's fine.” He sort of did, but it was nice having Nicky around anyway. It had been a long time since he'd just gotten to sit around and watch TV with someone, even if he was ill and that someone was maybe possibly stalking him. “Thanks for today.” He said, going to stand up. “You know. For toast and stuff.”

“It's my speciality.” Nicky winked, making him laugh. They headed down the hallway. Keano was out the front door as soon as it opened, looking excited at the prospect of a new adventure. “I can pop around in the morning with some hot chocolate, if you like?”

“I...” Mark hesitated. He'd been about to say no. He was fine. Not to worry. But Nicky looked earnest, was fiddling with his sunglasses again. “If you like. Don't put yourself out.”  
  
“It's not a bother.” He got a lopsided smirk, found himself smiling back. “I had a nice day. Even if you are a germ factory.”

“I slept through half of it.”

“It's cool. I got to watch the football.” A hand touched his forearm, just gently. “Look, ehm... I'm not trying to be weird or anything. I like you, but... I'm not out to try anything. I know...” He bit his lip. “It's not an agenda thing. I just like your company.”  
  
Mark didn't know quite what to say to that. Nicky was shuffling his feet slightly, though, looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.

“I'm not really a good person to like.” He said quietly. “Really. It's...” He looked down at his sock-clad feet. “I'm a bit of a disaster.”

“That's okay. Me too.” The hand on his forearm turned over, knuckles brushing the back of his hand. It felt sort of nice, tentative and affectionate at the same time. “You're fine.”

“You don't know me that well.”

“Not yet.” Nicky shrugged. “I haven't even started getting to the deeply weird stuff yet. It sounds interesting, frankly. You wait until you find the skeletons in my closet. Some of them aren't even human.”

“You're pretty normal, considering.”

“You don't know me that well.” Nicky countered. The hand pulled away. “Get some sleep, okay? I'll pop around at ten or so, let you sleep in.”

Mark agreed, watching Nicky trot down the stairs to his car, holding the door open so Keano could jump in. By the time he sped away Mark was almost asleep on his feet and he dragged himself up to bed, falling into a restless slumber almost immediately.

 

*

 

“Look at the tiny hands...” Kian cooed as delicate fingers wrapped around his thumb, grasping blindly. “She's beautiful, Gill...” He looked almost like he was glowing, like his whole world had shrunk to the size of the newborn in his arms. “She's so little.”

“Didn't feel so little when I was carrying her around for nine months.” Gillian laughed. She still looked tired, wasn't moving much with the stitches from the caesarian, but she looked happy enough. Shane was giddy with excitement, kept staring at her like he couldn't believe he'd contributed to a whole entire human.

“You want to hold her?” Kian murmured. Mark nodded, carefully taking the little life, feeling her shift in his arms. He half expected her to start screaming, but she just grabbed his finger with the other hand, still keeping a hold of Kian's as well. Fingers closed on the nape of his neck, tugging him so their foreheads were leaned together, the baby girl between them. A kiss brushed his nose, shy. Mark looked up, caught blue eyes that were misty with emotion.

“She's gorgeous.” Mark whispered.

“Yeah.” Kian said quietly. “You want one? Like, a family?”

“Maybe. Yeah.” Mark admitted. Kian kissed his nose again. “Not yet, but yeah, eventually.”

“Eventually.” Kian agreed. “We've got time. We've got our whole lives. I... I want to do that, though. With you.”

“Okay.” Mark nodded. “Yes. I'd love to.”

“Can you two stop hogging my baby? Get your own.” Shane piped up. Kian sniggered while Mark dutifully handed her back, watched her settle into his father's embrace. A hand slid into his, squeezing tight.

 


	6. Chapter 5

When Mark had first come home from the hospital, the only thing anybody seemed to ask him – apart from if he was okay – was if he'd be alright with the stairs. He wasn't really. People said he should maybe look at an easier house, if this was going to be an ongoing thing, like. He said no, probably not. He'd only just bought this place, it would be a bit silly to resell it.

The thing he wasn't saying, that nobody was, even though he knew they were thinking it, was that this was he and Kian's first home. The house they'd searched out and bought together, going through the banks and the mortgages and the contracts together, both bloody terrified and looking at words they didn't understand and just hoping they didn't bog this whole thing up. Making sure both their names were on everything so they'd have legal standing if, god forbid, something happened to one of them.

So no, he probably wouldn't be alright with the stairs. What he'd be less alright with was moving into a faceless, empty box of a house, relocating all their furniture, and finding that he'd lost something of Kian's. Some knick-knack, some photo, some article of clothing. That he'd left it behind or misplaced it and couldn't get it back. That another house wouldn't have Kian's smell, his memory.

So he slept on a mattress on the living room floor for the first month while he healed up and tried to get stronger again. It was a strange incentive, almost. Making it up the stairs so he could see their bedroom properly again. When Shane or his parents or someone came over there were offers of helping him up them so he could at least have a look around, but he didn't want to. Not until he could do it by himself. They just brought down clothes for him, stuff from the bathroom cabinet that he'd need, and left him to his own devices, imparting well-meant comments about how sleeping on the floor like that probably wasn't the best for getting better.

He'd done it one step at a time. The first one had been the worst. Taking all his weight on it for that first second while he'd lifted the good leg onto the first riser, hand gripping the bannister. Then stepping back down again. It had felt like a drill going into his hip.

Kian sat on the top step, peering down at him.

“You know, you're just being stubborn.” He pointed out. “This is pretty bloody unnecessary.”

“I'm determined. There's a difference.” Mark sighed. It had been two weeks and he was getting up to past halfway now. “What do you want me to do? Give up?”

“Do you want me to say yes?” Kian enquired, eyes flicking to the scar on Mark's wrist. Of all his scars this was the only one he was embarrassed about, the one he tried to cover with shirt sleeves and watches. The others were unsightly, this one was like disappointment. Weakness. Which he knew was apt, because he'd never felt so weak in his life.

“I have no idea.” Mark admitted. This was getting weirder. He knew it had started out as his subconscious trying to fill in gaps after the accident, provide a little comfort maybe and stop him trying to kill himself again, but it was getting more real. What had begun as a shadow, an inkling of presence when he was drifting in and out of sleep, a reflection in a puddle, was becoming more solid. He could _see_ Kian now. Not just because he was on too many pain pills or because he was cracking up, but because Kian seemed to be _there_. Like he'd always been.

“You've only got about four steps left.” Kian pointed out. “You could probably do it today.”

“Yeah, but what if I make it all the way to the top and then can't get back down?”

“Can you get back down from where you are?”

He looked back. It seemed an awfully long way, but he probably could, yes. He'd sat down and slid on his arse more than once, moving slowly to not jar anything. He'd thought about doing the same thing up, just dragging himself up on his hands, but his elbow and shoulder were still weak and tender and he didn't think he could take it. He'd dropped a mug the other day, his whole arm trembling and giving out when he'd tried to grip its meagre weight.

“Yeah.”

“One more step then?”

“Okay.” Mark shrugged, lifting his knee, hand gripping the bannister hard while he tried not to scream.

It was another two weeks until he finally managed it. It was so strange. There was a heavy, unused smell in the upstairs hallway. All the windows had been closed up here for months and it felt stale. In the delirium of his pain, Mark just hoped he'd trapped enough of Kian inside.

The bed was soft when he sank down onto it, rolling himself up in the sheets. His eyes fell on a photo of Kian on the nightstand. He hadn't seen it in months. A cheeky grin, a face splattered in mud where they'd been on a nature ramble. Mark swallowed, trying not to see red in the mud, twisted metal hemming them in and holding them apart. As he stared at the picture he saw Kian's eyes roll back, his cheeky grin twisting into a suffocated cry.

Fingers touched his shoulder.

“You know I'm gone, right?” Kian murmured.

He screamed into the pillow until one of the neighbours called the police.

 

*

 

When Mark woke up he felt worse than ever. His whole chest felt like a solid mass, weighting him into the bed while he tried to breath through the mucus clogging his throat and nose. He coughed, trying to dislodge it, but only managed a wheezing retch that didn't seem to do much of anything but make it harder to breathe.

He lay there like that for a long time, trying to find the energy to get up. It was after nine. Nicky would be here soon and he hadn't managed to even have a shower, let alone get down to the living room. He managed to push himself to the side of the bed, but the moment his foot hit the floor he was done, not able to take the weight. His joints were like gravel, shifting under pale, clammy skin.

When Nicky knocked on the front door he was still sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out how to breathe.

He got himself up enough to get over to the window and prop himself against the sill, one foot off the floor.

“Nicky!”

A face appeared a second later, Nicky backing into his vision and looking up questioningly. They were really only about eight feet apart while the blonde crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a cheeky smile.

“Good morning.”

“Hey. Ehm...” He felt his cheeks heat. “Sorry. My hip's fucked. I can't come downstairs.” He saw Nicky's face twist in concern. “I'm okay, I just...” He coughed, realised he probably looked awful and wondered what the hell Nicky thought. Surprised himself by realising he cared. “Sorry. I don't want to make you ill.”

“I don't care about that.” Nicky called back. “I'm definitely coming in if you can't walk. How are you going to get food?”

“I'm fine, I'm...”

“You're not.” Nicky rolled his eyes. “Don't be stubborn, okay? I'm either coming through the window or the door. Up to you.”

“Stalker.” Mark shot back. Nicky chuckled. Keano didn't appear to be with him. It was later, though. They'd probably already gone for their walk, which meant Nicky must have taken him out, gone back home, and then come to visit him. He didn't know how he felt about that. “I'm not stubborn, anyway. I'm determined.”

“Determined to be stubborn.” Nicky laughed. “Come on. I brought...” He lifted the plastic bag dangling from one hand. “I have biscuits, orange juice, cold and flu tablets, hot chocolate of course...” He dug through, grabbed something and held it up. “I got you a teddy bear.”

“Jesus.” Mark sighed, not sure what to say to that. It was a cute one. Honey-coloured fur with a blue bow around its neck. “I...” He bit his lip, looking around. “I don't have my keys up here, but if you go round the back there's one for the sliding door hidden underneath a rock that's shaped like a frog.”

“A rock that's shaped like a frog?” Nicky laughed. “Okay, cool.” He disappeared. Mark waited, sinking back into bed and trying to tidy his hair up a little bit, blowing his nose and hoping he didn't look too awful. He could hear the door opening, Nicky clattering around downstairs, and wondered what the hell he was doing down there. Kian asked if maybe they were being robbed. Mark told him to fuck off, feeling his stomach twist. A few minutes later Nicky came up with a cup of tea.

“That's service.” Mark accepted it gratefully. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Nicky climbed up onto the bed next to him, tossing the plastic bag at his feet. “Milk and one, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mark looked down into it, unable to believe Nicky had remembered. “I'm sorry. I probably look a mess.”

“You do, a bit.” An elbow dug teasingly into his side. “It's fine. You're really cute on other days. We can't be perfect all the time.” Mark didn't know what to say to that. He was sat in bed, miserable and sick and in a stupid amount of pain while a guy he barely knew brought him tea and called him cute.

“I don't...” He glanced at Nicky. “I don't get it. Why me?” He swallowed hard. “Why do you care?”

“Why shouldn't I?”

“I'm just some fucking random. We shared a hot chocolate and played with your dog. I don't get...” He sighed, looking away, trying to find the words in the grey carpet. There was a small stain in the corner where Kian had spilled a glass of red wine and been teasingly scolded for ruining the place when they'd only just moved in. “I'm all fucked up. Not just physically. Why are you even interested? I'm a hassle.”

“You're not.” A hand brushed his arm, tightened on his wrist. Mark stared at it, the heat of fingers pooling inexplicably along his whole side. “Nobody's perfect. At least you're interesting.”

“I'm really not.” Mark argued. “I'm fucked up. There's a difference.”

“Mark...” Nicky sighed. “Can I give you a hug?”

“No, thank you.” Mark shook his head. Nicky nodded, hurt touching his eyes, but he didn't argue. It was too much, having someone touch him like that. The fingers on his wrist were confusing enough. They let go. He didn't know if he was grateful or not. He shifted, trying to diffuse some of the pressure on his hip. “Do you pity me? Is that it?”

“No.” Nicky mumbled. “I'm sorry. I get pushy sometimes. I always have. Get swept up and stop thinking about...” He leaned forward, chin rested on his bent-up knees. Mark looked at the back of his head, trying to figure out what was going on in there. “I'm sorry. I like you. I wanted to spend more time with you. You make me feel...” Shoulders hitched in a clumsy shrug. “I don't know. It doesn't even make sense really. But... I haven't known what to do with myself. I've got kids I hardly ever see, I'm finally being honest with myself for the first time in... fuck, my whole life, I think, and maybe you just... maybe you're what I need.”

“What's that?”

“I don't know.” He was still staring ahead of himself, not looking back. “I'd like to say someone to take care of, but that makes you sound like a bird with a broken wing and you're not. Or maybe just someone who understands what it's like when things aren't okay. When they're just not and maybe won't ever be. Instead of someone who thinks the worst thing that could happen is that they lose their phone or the waiter gets their order wrong.”

“Yeah.” Mark sighed. Nicky glanced back at him, eyes almost frightened over the curve of his shoulder. “I tried to kill myself.” He said quietly, pushing back his pyjama sleeve. The scars were still there, a virulent red against his skin. Nicky stared at them, then looked up, tears filling his eyes. “After I got out of surgery. They told me he was dead, so I took the fork from my hospital dinner and tried to kill myself.”

“I...” Nicky swallowed. He looked away, wiped his eyes, then looked back, his gaze red and flat. “Me too.” He whispered. “I... I was... the IVF didn't take. We were trying to so hard and we thought it was our last chance and I thought... maybe it's me. Maybe this is because of what I am, of what I'm trying... not to be.” He began to chew his lip, still looking at Mark. Mark stared back. “I sat in the garage with the exhaust on until I passed out. It wasn't like going to sleep. I threw up down myself and figured that was probably about right. That I deserved it because... I don't know. They thought I might have brain damage from the Carbon Monoxide, but I didn't.” He swallowed hard. Mark did too. “She thought it was her fault. We started fighting a lot after that.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah.” Nicky murmured, looking away again. “Everyone is. Go get counselling, go talk to someone. Sort your shit out and take it on the chin. Bit of an overreaction, yeah? What's the problem? I knew what the fucking problem was.”

“Yeah.” Mark agreed. “I know.” He reached out a hand, touched it gently to Nicky's shoulder. Felt him flinch.

“The thing that nobody gets, right, is that it wasn't a lie. I didn't sit there and try to deceive her. Never for a second. I wasn't using her. I loved her. I still love her. I was in love with her. When I first saw her I knew I was going to marry her, right away, that she was just perfect. Every single little bit of me loved her. Except one. And how fucking weak is that? That's pathetic, that I can't get past some stupid... fetish... urge. Something. That I can't push that aside and have that perfect life I wanted. I _wanted_ it. I wanted _her_. I just...”

“It's not your fault.”

“Yeah.” Nicky sighed. “Nobody understands it. I'm that bastard that tricked some poor girl into marrying me so I could keep my cover, who knocked her up and ditched her so I could get buggered like the weak fucking sexfiend I am. What kind of person does that?”

Mark didn't know what to say. Nicky's shoulders were trembling under his hand. He rubbed it gently across them, feeling useless.

“Funny thing is, I haven't even slept with any lads since I left her. It's been almost a year and a half and I haven't been able to bring myself to...” He shook his head. “Maybe it's penance or something, but I just wanted to focus on being a dad. As much as I could. Making sure my boys could at least say I was there for them, even if I failed at everything else.”

“You didn't fail.” Mark said quietly. “You're doing your best.”  
  
“What if that's just not good enough?” Nicky sighed. “I've slept with two guys. One was my groomsman. He was gay. We didn't talk about it afterwards, you know? Under the rug. The other one was a guy I met when I was drunk at a club. I let him stick it my arse and the funny thing was it wasn't even that good. I didn't hate it, but it wasn't... maybe I thought that was supposed to be the game-changer. Some great 'aha!' moment, but it wasn't. I was never interested in shagging about in the first place, so maybe that's it. Or maybe I just hate myself so much I couldn't enjoy it. And that's it. I'm officially terrible at being gay.”

“Nicky...” He leaned forward a little more. Nicky had his face buried in his hands. Wasn't crying, just looked defeated. Like he was looking into his own palms for answers. Tentatively, Mark slid his hand up, resting it on the back of a blonde head. “Do you want a hug?” He said finally. Heard a soft, laughing sob.

“It's fine. You don't have to.”

“Come here.” He said quietly, wrapping his arms around the shaking man when he turned slightly into it, holding him in and feeling a head lean on his shoulder. Hands clutched at his back. “It's okay.”

“It's not.” Nicky breathed. Mark shook his head, not knowing what to say.

 

*

 

Mark ate a few biscuits, took some medication, and then they both lay down, not really talking, just sort of wallowing in the shared pool of their individual miseries. He wasn't sure which of them fell asleep first, but when he woke Nicky was curled up on top of the blankets next to him and he was busting for a pee.

He staggered to the bathroom slowly, leaning against the wall for a bit of support. Standing was too hard, so he sat down to go, sighing with relief.

“Would you not watch me use the toilet? It's weird.”

“Do you think this means you sort of want me to?” Kian shot back. “Didn't know this was a fetish.”

“It's not.” Mark crossed his arms over his knees, leaning forward to stare at the boy sat on the edge of the sink. It was funny, but Kian looked a little younger. He usually looked twenty-five or so, wearing the same brown jacket and jeans, but today he was maybe twenty, his hair shorter and blonder, the laugh lines around his eyes not as deep. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a baseball cap turned around backwards, his cheeks covered in a peach fuzz that was trying its best to be something more. “Why are you dressed like a teenager?”

“Why is there a boy in your bed?” Kian's eyebrow raised. Mark remembered this Kian well. When it had all been new and special and they'd been apart while Mark was at university, when Kian would get clingy and possessive if he even thought Mark had drifted past another boy's eyeline. It had settled a bit once he'd moved down and it had always been a bit sweet, if slightly frustrating. It wasn't like Mark had been looking at anyone else.

“Nothing happened.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure.” Mark rolled his eyes. “You really think I'm looking at someone who isn't you?”

“I don't know. You seem awfully close.” Kian huffed. “You'd tell me, right?”

“There's nothing to tell.” Mark sighed. “I'm not looking at other people.”

“He's looking at you.”

“You don't trust me?”

“I do. I just...” Kian hopped down from the sink, shifting awkwardly. “I love you. More than anyone. It'd ruin me if you didn't feel the same way.” He blushed, shifting self-consciously, hands deep in his pockets. “You love me, right?”

“Of course I do.” Mark wiped and began to stand, fumbling with his pyjamas. “You're cute when you're being possessive, though.”

“I'm cute when I do anything. It's why you love me.”

“Yeah. That's why.” Mark retorted. He got a grin, but when he looked up again from knotting the drawstring on his pyjama bottoms, there was nothing there but blank tiles. He shook his head, heading back into the bedroom.

 

*

 

Nicky left for a job around three that afternoon after making sure he had everything he needed. He made Mark a few sandwiches, wrapped them in clingfilm and put them on the side-table so they'd be there when he wanted dinner, made him another cup of tea, left a bottle of juice on the floor next to him, and handed him the small honey-coloured teddy bear, promising to pop back in the morning to check on him.

He was as good as his word, showing up the next morning at the same time and helping Mark down the stairs when he said he felt well enough to watch a bit of television. There was nothing on, but he didn't mind. Nicky bullied him into accepting a footrub, which he appreciated once it was all over, working the cramps out of legs that hadn't been used nearly enough in the last couple of days and trying to ignore the fact that Nicky could probably see the scars on the backs of his ankles where the glass had been picked out. He'd been quite lucky, apparently, that nothing had been badly damaged or severed. He'd thought they'd had a funny definition of the word 'lucky'.

It was around two in the afternoon when Nicky stood up, stretched, and went to grab a cup of tea from the kitchen. When he came back, though, he had a framed photo clasped in his hands.

“When's this from?” He held it up. Mark turned to look. It was just a small one, the two of them kissing while Kian prepared to shove a handful of snow down the back of his coat. Mark remembered that. He'd yelped, pushed Kian, and they'd ended up wrestling in the knee-deep drift that had built up against the side of the cabin.

“Ehm... 2003. We went on a ski trip with Shane and Gillian to Glencoe.”

“You can ski?”

“I could. A little bit.” He touched his hip, feeling it twinge. It was probably psychosomatic or something, but it didn't make it hurt any less. “Kian was better. He was learning to surf, actually. Probably would have been good at it, too. He could snowboard okay, so...” He paused. “I used to play tennis a lot.”

“Really?” Nicky returned the photo to the kitchen, then came back out with two steaming mugs of tea. “Were you good?”

“Yeah.” He admitted. “Used to do it when I was a kid. My mam'd drop me off on the way to work when I was on school holidays and I'd stay there for hours. Talking to people and knocking balls back and forth. I'm not much for going to the gym and that, but I liked tennis.”

“I played football.”

“Football's fun.”

“Yeah, but I used to _play_ football.” Nicky smirked. “I was a goalie for Leeds.”

“You were fucking not.”

“I was. Leeds United. We won the FA Youth Cup in 1997. Even played a few professional matches.” He laughed bashfully. “Fuck, that was more than ten years ago, now.” Mark let out a low whistle, amazed.

“Why'd you stop?”

“Lots of reasons. I was away from home all the time, I never saw my family or Georgina. It just stopped being fun, I guess. Not because of the hard work and training – I didn't mind that – but I always felt a bit out of my league, like I was always going to get passed over for someone better, no matter how good I tried to be. Then my contract was up and we all just sort of agreed that it was better if I not sign a new one.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Sort of. Yes. No. I suppose I think back and wonder if maybe my life could have been different. But I was lonely. Really lonely. I'm not good at feeling like that.”

“Is that why you're stalking me?”

“Definitely.” Nicky snickered. “You mind?”

“No.” Mark murmured. “You can... come round again. When I'm well. If you want.”

“Okay. You can come to mine too, if you like. It's a shitty rented bachelor pad, but you're welcome to visit.”

“Okay.” Mark bit his lip, trying to think what to say next. “I'm not hitting on you.” He blurted out. Nicky raised an eyebrow.

“I didn't think you were.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” He felt his face flush. “Good thing we cleared that up.”

“Yeah.” Nicky laughed. “I could fancy you, if things were like that. Really. But...”

“No. Yeah.” Mark sighed. “Sorry. Is it really stupid that I'd feel like I was cheating on Kian?”

“No.” Nicky hesitated. “...do you mind talking about him?”

“I don't know. I mind when people try too hard not to talk about him. But at the same time I hate it when they force it. I don't like feeling like they're trying to talk about him the way they think I want them to.”

“Am I doing that?”

“No.” Mark picked up his mug and sipped carefully. “Maybe it helps that you didn't know him. Sometimes I think I forget that other people lost him too. I almost never see his family. I don't think I'd know what to say to them.” He took another sip. Nicky did too, eyes watching him over the rim of the mug. “But it's hard to remember that other people loved him. Because he was mine.” He felt the tea stick on the lump in his throat. A hand folded into his, squeezing.

“I'm sure he loved you just as much.”

“Yeah.” Mark breathed. “He did.”

“Tell me something about him. Something you loved.”

“I wouldn't know where to start. He'd like you.” Mark admitted. “He'd like that you make me laugh.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” He tried to think, tried to pick one thing through the heartbreakingly short tangle of their lives. “He always liked doing stupid things. Like skydiving and bungee jumping and that. I hated it. I never understood why he'd want to. Why he'd take the risk, you know? Like, I'm not scared of heights really but I wasn't about to go jumping out of a plane. But he did things like that. I think that's one of the things I loved most, that he was never really afraid. Or maybe he was but he didn't really care, because he wasn't going to miss out an adventure. Like, we'd watch those shows like Fear Factor and I'm A Celebrity, and he'd be saying 'I'd do that', 'I could do that'. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world to eat fish eyes or climb through a tunnel full of rats and spiders.”

“Gross.”

“I know.” Mark laughed. “He was pretty gross.”

“He sounds fun.”

“He was lots of fun.” Mark grinned, looking down into his tea.

 


	7. Chapter 6

“Fuck... ah...” Kian gasped, hips rolling up while Mark sank down, their eyes locked together. Fingers curled though the hand he had planted on Kian's chest while they both adjusted, Mark's lip popping out from under his teeth when he whimpered, the stretch stark and sending prickling tendrils of pleasure down every nerve ending.

“Oh...” Mark muttered, lifting a little then settling again, feeling the stretch become easier. “God. Ki.”

“So good.” Kian breathed. “You feel...”

“Yeah...” He dragged in a deep breath. “Oh wow. Shit.” He couldn't help but laugh, a silly chuckle tumbling over his lip. Fingers stroked his hip gently, a swollen mouth parted in an affectionate smile. “I'm not going to last long.”

“Sure you are.” The fingers stroked down his thigh, palm flattening as it slid back up, pushing the hair in the wrong direction and tickling. “You're beautiful.” Mark felt himself blush, felt a thumb start to make slow circles over the crease of his groin. “Not a bad shag, either.”

“Not bad?”  
  
“Not awful?”

“Fuck off.” He bent down, shivering when Kian shifted inside him. The kiss was slow, totally unhurried while hands travelled up and down his back, curling into his hair, then moving on. One squeezed his arse. He bit a soft lower lip gently, felt a laugh rumble against his mouth.

“Hey.” Kian said, before their lips caught again in another kiss.

“Hey.” Mark murmured back. “I want you.”

“You've got me.”

“Mmm...” He let his mouth travel over Kian's chin, down his neck, french kissing into the soft muscle of his throat. “Good.” Hips jerked slightly, teasing. He shuddered. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Kian echoed. “So sexy.” He propped himself up on one elbow, fingers curling into Mark's hair and tugging him back into a kiss while his hips set a rhythm, rocking carefully into him while Mark locked his knees still. “So tight for me.”

“Yes...” He gasped, feeling his cock twitch. “Too good. I can't...”

“Hold on. I'm not done with you yet.” Kian's mouth was hot and wet, sucking him into kiss after kiss, holding him into it with gentle fingers. “Touch yourself, love. Show me.” He did as he was told, moaning softly at the pressure of his own grip, the other elbow bracing him next to Kian's head. “That's it. Fuck, you're gorgeous.”

“I'm...” He closed his eyes, trying to hold on. “God, I'm...”

“You gonna come?” Kian murmured. “You gonna come for me?”

“Sorry...”  
  
“Don't be. God, I want to watch you come.” A kiss bit at the corner of his mouth, his hips still rolling. Targeting that spot every time and Christ. “You gonna make me come too?”

“Yes... please... Fuck...” The next noise he made was meant to be a growl but came out clumsy and high-pitched. Kian chuckled, pulling him in.

“I love you.” He murmured. Mark groaned, sucking desperately at his tongue, feeling everything swirl and pinch, feeling fingers slide over his back then yank him down into a clumsy embrace, his own arm hooking under Kian, hugging him tight, hand moving faster between them, crushed between their stomachs. Teeth scraped his bottom lip.

He came with a cry of Kian's name, his release filling the space between them.

 

*

 

Mark groaned, pulling his hand from the sticky mess in his pyjama bottoms. He'd woken right as he was coming, barely registering the movement of his fist before it had been filled with unintended streams of cum, squelching between his fingers while he cried out Kian's name into the empty bedroom, voice thick with sleep.

He punched the pillow with his other hand, anger filling the space his dream had left, barking out a shout that did nothing to release the rising flood of emotion. He wriggled his pyjama bottoms off, used them to wipe up all the mess and threw them at the wall to land in a sticky heap on the floor. Glared at them accusingly for a second, then collapsed back onto the mattress, pressing his face into the pillow.

He hadn't come like that in...

He huffed out an angry sigh, knowing it was stupid to be beating himself up over this. It was natural, probably. His brain latching onto something guaranteed to get a bit of healthy release going on, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Not at all. He didn't even like to jerk off. Hadn't done so in he didn't know how long, which was probably the issue. It felt wrong. Like enjoying himself without Kian here was an insult to his memory. As though it could ever be possible to recreate what they'd done together on his own.

The shower washed away the evidence, but not his anger, and when he finally staggered downstairs to sink onto the couch he had a raging headache, pulsing along to the screaming pain in his hip. Even his shoulder seemed to be playing up, which didn't happen very often these days.

“Would you _fuck off?!_ ” He shouted before Kian could say anything, got a disapproving frown in response. He took two pills on a empty stomach and yanked the blanket up around his neck, burying his face in his knees.

“Mark...”  
  
“FUCK OFF!” He shouted, turning to look at concerned blue eyes. “Seriously. Fuck off. What do you even _want?_ You're not even fucking _here!”_

“You should eat...”

“You know what? No. It hurts, it's not going to kill me, and you're not fucking here. So _SHUT UP!_ ”

“I'm only here because you want me here.” Kian said quietly. “I can go away at any time.”

“I...” Mark shook his head, not knowing what to say to that. He buried his head in the blanket again, staying there until the painkillers started to soak into his empty stomach and make him feel dizzy and sick. He threw up into the kitchen sink, ate a stale Oreo, and sank back down again, resisting the urge to slap Kian when he was given a look that very definitely said 'I told you so'.

 

*

 

“Haven't seen you in a few days.” Nicky commented. Mark sank down onto the bench, giving Keano a scratch behind the ear.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine. Everything okay?”

“Same as ever.” Nicky had shown up about an hour after he'd thrown up in the sink on Monday, looking all ready to take care of him. Mark had had to tell him no. Not today. That he was sorry, but... not today. He was feeling better, so...

Nicky had looked disappointed, like he'd deflated a little while the determination had rushed out of him. Mark had said he'd catch up with him at the beach. Nicky had asked if he'd see him tomorrow. Mark had said he didn't know.

“You want to talk about it?”  
  
“No.” Mark sighed. Nicky nodded.

“Fair enough.”

“Mm.” He gave the dog another scratch. He'd spent most of the week in his studio, letting things out onto paper and into the microphone. It was sort of calming, blurting everything out in a rush, then having to listen to it over and over again while he meticulously picked it apart on the computer. Like turning it into the start of an equation or the edge pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Like the framework was there, just waiting for the variables to be slotted in in the right way. “You want a ginger nut?”

“Love one.” Nicky reached into his backpack. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yes please.” Mark accepted the cup a minute later. Fingers brushed his for a fraction of a second.

“I'm doing a gig tonight at a place nearby.” Nicky said, once the cups had been emptied and packed back away. Keano was digging a hole, looked like he was really involved. “You want to come? Free drinks for the entertainment.”

“I dunno.” He stared out at the waves, watched them break and then suck themselves back under. “I'm not much for going out.”

“It's just a pub. Not a late one. Done by ten-thirty.” Nicky promised. “I can pick you up.”

“I...” His hands twisted anxiously around each other. “Maybe. I don't know. I'll see how I feel.” Fingers touched his shoulder.

“If you're going to say no later, you can just say no now. I won't be offended.”

“Yeah.” Mark breathed. Everyone was, though. They all knew he was going to bail, in the end, but it was about keeping up the pretence. That little social expectation that he actually care enough to consider it. It reeked of bullshit. Like he didn't care what they wanted and they didn't care what he wanted, so long as everyone pretended to be happy and courteous together. “I want to say yes.”

“Are you going to?”

“Maybe.” He bit his lip, trying to think. “You know what pisses me off?”  
  
“What's that?”  
  
“When people ask me to go places, but you can tell they're only asking because they think you'll be offended if they don't, even though you both know you're going to say no anyway and they don't really want you there in the first place because you're a downer.”

“I'm not doing that.”

“I know you're not. It just happens a lot. It gives me the shits something fierce.” Nicky laughed beside him, eyes sparkling. “Like there's some sort of social interaction checklist.”

“People get upset when you don't stick to the rules. I mean, if everybody's not doing what they're supposed to, then what's the point?”

“God forbid somebody actually say what they're thinking.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That I sort of want to go.” Mark admitted. “But I sort of worry that this could be a date, if I'm not careful.”

“It doesn't have to be.”

“No. I know. But if it is, I'm a bit worried that it'll be my fault, actually.”

“Oh.” Nicky nodded. “Well, if it helps, I can be totally unromantic and not at all interesting or charming in any way.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Mark snorted, then blushed when he realized the implication of what he'd just said. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly? That the shadow coming off that rock looks sort of like a camel.” Nicky pointed. Mark looked over, laughing. “I mean, I was involved in the conversation and all, but it was right there and all I could think was 'that looks like a camel'.”

“You're deeply weird.” Mark snorted. “And it doesn't. If anything it's shaped like a teapot.”

“No. Look. Neck, head, tail. And there's the hump.”

“No, that's the lid, and there's the spout...” Mark pointed. “It's a teapot.”

“It's a camel.” Nicky retorted. “Ya blind?”

“No, it's...” Mark stood up, grabbing Nicky's wrist and dragging the other man with him, his other hand leaning on the cane for support. They stood over the rock. Mark jabbed at the shadow with the handle. “There, see? That's the spout right there.”

“Why does it have legs, then?”

“It's sitting on a coffee table.”

“How big is this teapot?” Nicky snickered reproachfully. “Camel.”

“Fuck off.” Mark snorted. He realised his hand was still gripping Nicky's wrist, but he didn't let go. Nicky looked down at his fingers, then up again, giving him a questioning smile. “It's not a date.” He mumbled. Nicky shook his head.

“Absolutely not.”

 

*

 

Mark always felt sort of awkward in public like this. He always got the feeling people were looking at him, wondering what was up with the dude with the cane. Ordering at the bar and seeing the bartender's eyes drift slightly to the scars on the side of his face while they were talking, noticing people politely getting out of his way like he might trip and hurt himself.

Nicky was setting up. They'd arrived just before eight and Mark had sat down at an available table and gotten something to eat while the kitchen service was still going, taking occasional bites of a chicken salad sandwich while Nicky plugged things in and looked busy and determined. It kicked off about eight-thirty, with Nicky opening up by belting out Picture of You by Boyzone, his voice surprisingly good. Mark had never really considered whether Nicky could sing or not, but it seemed that he could after all, was giving Ronan Keating a run for his money in the cheesy grin stakes while he winked at the girls giggling at the table closest to the stage.

By the time he was done there were already two girls clustered around the side, whispering to him when he went over and pointing at the book. He nodded, went back to the microphone, and introduced Emily and Hannah, who proceeded to launch into a fairly terrible version of Hit Me With Your Best Shot. Then he sank down next to Mark, grabbing a chip from the pile that had come with his sandwich.

“Hey, mate... um...” A bloke in a biker jacket came up, scratching the back of his shaved head awkwardly. “You got any Neil Diamond? It's the missus' birthday.”

It was quite fun, actually, watching people get up and butcher the most contrived song choices in the world. Nicky had asked him beforehand if he wanted to play karaoke bingo, and had scribbled down a four by four grid and filled it with songs that he could just about guarantee someone was going to try to sing. By the time they were an hour in, Mark already had five songs crossed off on the napkin and was going for a whole diagonal.

“And this is Courtney, singing Killing Me Softly!”

Mark crossed off another square, squinting to figure out if he was close to anything. Nicky glanced at the napkin on the way past, squeezed his shoulder, stole a cold chip, and wandered off to encourage a couple at the next table over to get involved. Five minutes later they were making an okay job of Islands in the Stream.

“Bingo.” Mark murmured as Nicky went past, got a laugh. He came back a minute later, peering over Mark's shoulder.

“Ooh, diagonal! That's for the bonus prize!” A hand tousled his hair.

“Which is?” The book landed in front of him. “No.”

“Yep.” Nicky grinned. “Pick one or I'll pick for you.”

“You can't make me.”

“No, but I can harass you mercilessly until you do. Do you want to sing Nickelback? Because you've got exactly as long as it takes that guy...” He pointed to a skinny looking guy with a look of nervous expectation on his face. “To murder It's Not Unusual.”

“Shit.” Mark grabbed the book, began to flick, not at all sure why he was letting Nicky do this to him. “Wait. Give me a minute.” Nicky toddled away, introduced Paul from Clontarf, and then came back.

“Picked something?”

“Yeah.” Mark held up the book, pointing. Nicky looked surprised, then grinned. “What?”

“Nothing. Bold choice.” He got a pat on the shoulder. “See you in a minute.”

“Thanks Paul!” He said when the guy climbed back down after having blushed his way through the whole thing. “Round of applause for Paul! Next up we have...” He glanced down at his paper, as though he'd forgotten. Mark rolled his eyes, got a wink back. “Look, frankly I'm a bit starstruck, because this man's slumming it here tonight. He's one of my favourite singer-songwriters and he's here tonight singing Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson, it's Mark Feehily, everyone!” He started clapping and cheering while Mark glared, pushing himself to his feet. There were a few other loud claps, as though people weren't sure whether he was actually famous or not and didn't want to look like they didn't know who he was.

“Arsehole.” He murmured on the way past. Nicky grinned.

“What? You are my favourite singer-songwriter.”

“You've never heard me sing.” Mark muttered.

“First time for everything.” A hand touched his shoulder. “Give 'em hell, yeah?”

“I...” Mark swallowed, looking down at the microphone. It wasn't the singing he minded so much. He could do that in public with no bother. Had done, repeatedly, in school talent shows and musicals and stuff. It was the other thing he didn't like, standing in front of a room of people, feeling like the blue stage lights were bringing up the scars on his face, the cane dangling from his hand like a dead limb. It felt horribly like being exposed for something he didn't want to be.

He leant his weight on it a little harder, glanced over at the television as the intro started up even though he already knew all the words. Nicky was sitting at the table in front, smiling encouragingly.

“ _I'm gonna make a change... for once in my life...”_

He let his eyes fall closed. There was no agenda behind his choice, it was just his favourite song. He knew it was naff, probably a bit dated, but he knew he could sing it well and it was a bit of a sentimental choice. Plus it was probably a bit more appropriate than picking a screaming Mariah Carey number on his first day out.

When he opened his eyes Kian was sat in the back, feet kicked up on the table, watching him with his arms crossed over his chest. As Mark watched, he got a wink.

He didn't wink back. Wasn't sure if there was actually another person sitting there or not and didn't want to go winking at randoms in public. He smiled though, eyes forcing back down to Nicky who was still sat at the table with his eyebrow raised like he'd just found out something Mark had neglected to tell him.

He blushed his way off the stage to a round of applause that was startlingly loud, passing the microphone back to Nicky on the way. The older boy looked a bit flustered but he took the stage again, plastering a smile over his face.

“Mark Feehily, everyone! Let's get another round of applause for Mark!” There were more claps, surprisingly, a couple of whistles. He ate another chip to distract himself from the blaze of his cheeks while Nicky introduced the next person. Half an hour later it was all over. The karaoke machine was packed up and being shoved in the backseat of Nicky's car while Mark leaned against the passenger side door, handing Nicky box of cables and microphones.

They went back inside. Nicky ordered a couple of cokes and they sat in the corner while a DJ took up residence in the space they'd just vacated.

“You didn't tell me you could sing like that.”

“I said I could sing.” Mark shrugged. “I'm alright.”

“Yeah, but shit...” Nicky trailed off, taking a sip of his beer. “Like, I thought I could sing okay, but now I just feel inadequate.”

“You have a really nice voice.” Mark commented. Saw Nicky smile, looking a little pleased. “I like your voice.”

“Charmer.”

“No charm.” Mark reminded him. “This isn't a date.”

“I know.” A hand squeezed his, just casual. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” He felt a bit silly now, trying to waffle and make excuses to maybe possibly get out of it. He wasn't sure what he'd been so afraid of. His hip didn't even really hurt that much. “I'm glad I came.”

“Cool.” Nicky smiled. “You tell me when you want to head off, okay?”

“Did you want to?”

“No. Just... whenever you do works for me.” Nicky squeezed his hand again before letting go. “I'm okay here for as long as you want to hang out.”

“Oh.” Mark nodded, feeling his cheeks redden again. He took another sip of his coke. “Then I guess I'm okay here for now.”

 

*

 

Mark loved days like this. Sunny and warm, laying on the grass in a field, staring up at the sky and watching the clouds go by. A yellow butterfly skittered past him, wings flapping desperately to hold itself aloft. Kian was sat next to him, back propped against a tree-stump while he idly strummed his guitar.

“Play me something.” Mark said quietly. And Kian did, the music flooding through Mark's whole body while he lay there losing himself in the blue of the sky, feeling like he was about to fall into it. When Kian was done he leaned over, brushing a kiss to Mark's mouth, blonde hair flopping forward and tickling his face. Their noses rubbed together. “I don't want to go back to Dublin.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'll miss you.” Mark sighed. “I miss you so much.”

“I know.” Kian put down the guitar, flopping down to lay next to him. A hand found his, entwining carefully. “I was thinking... I've been saving up a bit and... I don't know if you have enough but maybe... maybe if you could afford to move out of the dorm I could come down. Permanently. Rent a flat, sort of thing.” Mark looked over in surprise, but Kian was staring up at the sky himself and didn't look back. He touched a smooth cheek, and clear blue eyes flicked over to him a second later.

“Yes please.” Mark said quietly, saw Kian's mouth twist into a smile. “You'd move to Dublin for me?”

“I'd do anything for you.” The hand in his squeezed. “I know...” He swallowed. “I know we say 'I love you' all the time, but it doesn't feel big enough. Not for the way I feel about you. I...” Mark rolled over onto his side, looking down at a bashful face. “It hurts when you're away. Like nothing else is worth doing but waiting to see you again.”

“Kian...” Mark chuckled, bending down to kiss Kian's forehead. “I know. I feel the same.”

“Good. I thought I was just being needy and clingy and stuff.”

“You are. It's gorgeous.” That got a small laugh. He stroked his hand down Kian's chest, just wanting to feel him. “It's a big step.”

“I want to.” Kian was nothing but conviction. “I want you. I want that. I don't care if we're young, or stupid, or rushing things, or any of that shit. I'm not wasting time I could have spent with you.” Fingers touched his cheek. “You're everything. You're all I'll ever need.”

“Ditto.” Mark murmured, allowing himself to be drawn into a hard kiss while the summer sun warmed his skin.

 


	8. Chapter 7

It was fucking freezing. It had been starting to get warmer the last few weeks, as February edged its way up to the beginning of Spring, then all of a sudden the clouds had rolled in, the windows were almost opaque with frost, and the cold was like a potato peeler on his face and hands.

Mark watched a cloud of mist puff in front of him while he made his way out the front door, gloved hands fumbling with the keys. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this. It was too fucking cold. Nicky probably wouldn't be there – Keano wasn't exactly going to be playing in the water when it was minus four degrees.

A car pulled up just as he was about to cross the street.

“Hey.” Nicky's head poked out the driver's side window. Mark waved, confused. “It's too fucking cold for the beach. Get in.”

 

*

 

“I don't understand.” Mark looked at the mug in front of him in mock-askance. “You're saying if I give them money, they'll bring me hot chocolate?”

“It's weird, right?”

“And anybody can do this?”

“Yeah. It's a bit advanced. Not sure how it works. I assume there's a really big thermos out the back.”

“But...” Mark took a sip. “But how do they get it so hot? Yours isn't this hot.”

“Something to do with computers, I think.”

“Wow, it really is the future.” Mark sighed. Nicky laughed, kicking him lightly under the table. “But what if I want a Hobnob? Do I just check people's pockets?”

“They can bring you pie.”

“They have _pie?”_ Mark exclaimed. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Idiot.” Nicky grinned, taking a sip from his own steaming mug. They'd been sat here for about twenty minutes, ensconced in the warmth of the coffee shop. It was packed with people rugged up in beanies and coats and they were sat in the corner near the pizza oven, Mark's fingers prickling as blood started to warm in his extremities. Nicky was still wearing a loose beanie and scarf that made him look sort of cute and cool, their gloves in a pile on the table. “I could go a slice, actually. You want to split a warm cherry custard?”

Mark did, so Nicky went up to order, leaving him sipping his hot chocolate.

Nicky had a cute bum.

Mark wasn't sure why he'd only just noticed. Maybe it was the way he was leaned over the counter, talking animatedly to the girl there, but suddenly his bum was there, his grey wool trousers stretched over it and Mark couldn't not notice. Notice that it was firm and a bit skinny, emphasised by the cut of his jacket, which skated just along the top of his belt, shifting as he stood on long slender legs.

And Mark was not ogling his arse.

“You want another hot chocolate?”

He looked back up at Nicky's face, got a cheeky grin. Nodded. His cheeks were on bloody fire all of a sudden.

“Mark?”

“Gillian?” She'd just come through the door, holding something that didn't seem to be Nicole so much as it was a ball of multi-coloured wool with eyes somehow grasping a doll. “Hey!”

“Hiya!” She gave him a quick hug when he stood, awkward with the little girl in one arm and a bag over the other. “How are you?”

“I'm well. Hey, Nicole.” He bent to kiss what he could see of her forehead.

“Unca Mark I got a princess!”

“You do.” Mark laughed, looking at the doll. “I thought you were a princess?”

“No! M'a prince. They get horsies and swords.” Gillian rolled her eyes fondly, giving her a squeeze.

“She's got her priorities right, at least.” Mark laughed.

“Yesterday she wanted to be Shrek.” She chuckled. “At least she's got an imagination. I can't keep up.” She glanced over his shoulder to where Nicky was just sitting down. “Sorry, I'm interrupting.”

“Oh... no... uh...” He glanced back over, not sure how to do this introduction, knowing already from the curious look that Gillian was making assumptions. “Sorry. Gillian, Nicky. He's my friend.” Jesus, that sounded weak, like he was ten years old and inviting a mate over. If she noticed she didn't show it, just waved brightly. “You might know his kids, actually. They go to Nicole's daycare. Rocco and Jay...”

“I do! Yeah!” Her face split into a grin as realisation dawned. “Georgina's...” She was about to finish that sentence, then her smile froze. “Well, nice meeting you finally. She talks about you.”

“That's... worrying.” Nicky laughed awkwardly. She kept smiling, looking like she was trying to make the best of it. “It's probably all true.”

“She says you're an amazing dad.” Gillian offered. Nicky smiled weakly, looking down into his mug. “Anyway. I'm just grabbing a coffee and then we're going shopping. Come over for dinner again, okay?” She leaned in to give Mark another hug. “We miss seeing you around the place. I'll call you. Nicole, say bye honey.”

“Bye Unca Mark.”

“Bye Nicole.” He poked her nose gently, got a giggle. They left a minute later, Gillian with a steaming plastic cup in one hand. “Sorry about that.”

“No. It's fine.” Nicky poked at the pie, lips twisting like they were trying to keep something at bay. “Jay took his first steps yesterday.” He said finally.

“That's amazing!” Mark exclaimed. “Congratulations!”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “He's been standing up for a bit, you know. Like, holding himself up on the edge of the coffee table and that. But he hadn't quite...” He gestured vaguely. “So yeah.”

“Pretty cool.”

“Yeah.” Nicky swallowed hard, and Mark was startled to see tears standing in his eyes. “I missed it. It was while Georgina was at the park with her new boyfriend. She emailed me the video.”

“Fuck.” Mark breathed. “Well, at least there's Rocco...”

“I missed that too. It was a month ago. He was always a little flier. First one to laugh, first one to stand...” He put down the fork. “Fuck.” There was a thud when he kicked the leg of the table, the china rattling. “The only first I was there for was the birth. We thought we were going to lose them, you know? Eight weeks premature. They were so tiny and we couldn't even take them home yet. I barely left the hospital. I couldn't. Just in case...” He swallowed hard. “And now they're starting to walk and I'm not...”

“It's not your fault.”

“Yeah it is.” Nicky sighed. “I could have stayed.”

“You couldn't have.” Mark murmured. “You want them to grow up knowing their parents are only staying together because they feel like they have to?”

“I could have finished the job.” Nicky whispered. “Better to grow up with no dad than...”

“You can't think that.”

“Why not?” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I'm trying my best. But I'm going to miss out. I'm going to miss their first haircut and their first day of school. I'm not going to get to help with homework every day and one day I'll pick them up and they'll hate me because I was that dad that was never around and mam's new fella is cool and buys them things and they'll want to hang out with their friends instead of coming to visit me, and then...” He shook his head. “That's it. That's my life.”

“Nicky...” He put his fingers over a trembling hand and squeezed. Wet blue eyes looked down at their shared grip. “You're a good dad. They'll love you.”

“Why should they?” Nicky murmured. “I just...” He looked up at Mark. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...”

“It's fine.” Mark assured him. “You want to get this to go? We can go back to yours for a bit?”

“I...” Nicky looked back down at the plate. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

*

 

“This place is depressing.” Kian pointed out. Mark was making a pot of tea in Nicky's tiny kitchen while the older boy had a bit of a tidy up in the living room so they'd at least have somewhere to sit. It wasn't messy or dirty as such, it was just a bit cramped, as thought Nicky had tried to cram too big a life into too small a box, as though his world had shrunk suddenly. Keano had been asleep on the hall rug when they'd come in.

“It's fine.” Mark whispered. “Don't be so hard on him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he's having a shit run and he doesn't need you judging him.”

“Are you judging him?”

“No.” The kettle clicked off, so Mark began to pour hot water into the teapot, rummaging for the sugar. “I just feel sorry for him.”

“You hate it when people feel sorry for you.”

“Yeah, well...” The fridge was covered in pictures of the kids. Mark sighed, looking at a photo of Nicky smiling down at a small bundle in a green beanie, tears streaming down his cheeks. The woman in the bed was holding a matching one in red, looking exhausted but with a smile on her face. “It doesn't mean they don't.”

“Gillian's going to tell Shane about Nicky, you know.”

“Yeah, probably.” He glanced at Kian. “Would you shut up? He'll hear us.”

“Do you care what he thinks?”

“I care that he doesn't think I'm crazy.” Mark retorted.

“Everybody else does.”

“He's not everybody else.”

“Oh, really?” Kian smirked. Mark opened the fridge again, blocking his view while he put back the milk. When he closed it Nicky was standing in Kian's place, the box of pie held in his hands. Mark jumped.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.” Nicky gave him a smile. “I thought I heard you say something.”

“Just... no... talking to myself.” He shifted awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Do that a lot?”

“More than I'd like to admit.” He sighed. Nicky snorted, hand squeezing his shoulder.

“That's okay. Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. A bit.” Nicky laughed. “No so much talking to myself but I tend to sort of... narrate. You know. When I'm on my own and doing stuff. I'll be like...” He turned towards the microwave. “Gonna put this pie in here... turn on the thing... thirty seconds? No, forty. Do I want ice-cream. Fuck it, it's too cold. I wonder if I have custard. No, I don't. I should probably buy custard. I'll put that on the list. Where's the list? Screw it, I'll remember. No, I won't. Where's a pen...” He looked over, caught Mark laughing. “See? I'm like an experience.”

“Absolute nailbiter. In the next thrilling episode we find out whether you remembered the custard.”

“Oh, I'll forget.”

“Spoilers!”

“Sorry.” Nicky laughed. “I never used to do it, funnily enough. Just since I've been living on my own. It's sort of comforting, feeling like there's someone else here, even if it's just me anyway.”

“I know what you mean.” He hesitated, considered telling Nicky about Kian, then decided that was just too weird. “I like your place.”

“No you don't, it's depressing.” Nicky shrugged. “I appreciate you saying it, though. Come...” He gestured. Mark left the tea, following Nicky out into the living room. He was walking okay today, hadn't had to unfold his cane since he'd gotten here. He sank down onto the couch when Nicky gestured, settling himself in front of the open laptop. Nicky sat next to him, leaning forward to click on the screen.

The boys filled the screen, both dressed in little jumpers and sat on the grass under a tree. As Mark watched, the one in green forced himself to his feet on stubby little legs, his hands gripping the top of a Tonka truck, which wobbled slightly on its wheels.

“Come on Jay...” He heard a soft call. The boy looked up, face breaking into a giggling grin, and reached out a hand which grasped slowly into a fist. “You want to come over here?” He giggled, looked down at his brother, who seemed fairly uninterested, was busy sucking on a sock monkey. “Come over here.”

He took one step, wobbled, then planted the other foot and fell down. It was all over in less than a second, landing on his bum in the grass next to the Tonka truck, looking totally surprised by this turn of events. The video cut out a second later while he grinned, all six teeth on full display.

When he looked back over, Nicky had tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Come here...” Mark urged quietly, pulling him into a hug that was all trembling. Arms came around his shoulders, a blonde head resting into the crook of his neck. He didn't know what to say, what would make it okay, so he just threaded his fingers into soft hair, stroking when he felt Nicky shudder, wetness start to squelch into his throat. His other hand began to stroke up a long spine, feeling it heave under his hand.

Nicky cried himself out after a few minutes. It was like a brief, intense storm, and when Nicky sat back again, wiping his eyes, Mark kept a hand on his back.

“Sorry. I'm a mess.”

“You're fine.” Mark replied, sliding his arm around narrow shoulders and pulling the smaller man against his side. “You're too hard on yourself, you know?” Nicky exhaled slowly, not replying. “You never set out for things to go wrong. Sometimes things just do. You're doing well so far.”

“This is doing well?”

“Sure. You could have skipped off, made it not your problem.”

“I couldn't ever do that.”

“Exactly. You're a good dad. I've seen you with them. Even if you miss things, they'll never have to wonder whether you loved them or not.” Mark squeezed his shoulder. “You're a good person.”

“I can't be. After what I did...”  
  
“You're gay, Nicky. You're not a murderer.” He reached out, grabbing a napkin from the bag they'd carried the box of pie in. “Here.” He began to wipe damp, shiny cheeks. “What were you going to teach them by hiding it? That it's okay to pretend to be someone else, even if nobody's happy?”

“I don't...” Nicky sighed, shaking his head. “I didn't want to be like this.”

“Well, you are.” Mark shrugged. He placed a tentative kiss to a wrinkled forehead, got a searching look when he pulled away. “You want me to go warm the pie up again? The tea's probably still hot.”

“Yes please.” Nicky sighed. He looked up when Mark stood, leaning one hand on the back of the couch for support. He looked small, knees up against his chest and eyes red and lost. “Mark?”

He paused in the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Um...” Nicky bit his lip, studying him carefully. Then he looked away. “No. Nothing.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” Nicky mumbled. “Everything's fine.”

 

*

 

Nicky dropped him off home a couple of hours later. The next morning was a bit warmer so he met Nicky at the usual spot, tossing the frisbee from the bench and watching Keano dash after it, his tail wagging madly. Friday was freezing again so they went to have an Irish breakfast at a pub, then went to get some groceries, which he hadn't done for a while. It was too complicated so he usually just ordered them online and had them delivered. Mark reminded Nicky that he needed custard. Nicky let him push the cart so he'd have something to lean on if he needed it.

“I have the boys this weekend.” Nicky said as they were working their way through the checkout, Mark's stuff in a basket to keep it separate from Nicky's. “Picking them up this afternoon.”

“Oh, fun. Any plans?”

“Don't know. Not really.” Nicky shrugged. “It's too cold to take them outside, really, so maybe just stay home. Or I might rug them up if it's sunny and we can go to the zoo.”

“Well, I'll probably see you on Monday then?”

“Yeah.” Nicky dug in his wallet, and they settled into silence while he sorted out the bill. She began checking Mark's stuff a second later. “Do you want to come?”

“Where?”  
  
“To the zoo.” Nicky wasn't looking at him, was mumbling while he loaded his bags back into the trolley.

“With your kids?”

“Yeah.” Blue eyes glanced nervously over at him. “Thought it might be nice.”

“Oh. Um.” Mark shrugged. “I don't know. It's a lot of walking.”

“Oh. Of course. Sorry. I didn't...” Nicky shook his head. I'm sorry. I forget...” He glanced down at Mark's leg. “Sorry.”

“It's okay.” It was sort of nice that Nicky had forgotten. Everyone else seemed to think it was the most important bit of him, for some reason. Like, instead of making eye-contact they were watching curiously to see if he was about to fall down. “If you don't mind walking really slowly...”

“I don't.” Nicky smiled. Mark liked that smile. It was eternally patient and kind in a way that wasn't at all condescending. For not the first time he was sure Nicky would be a fantastic dad. “We can sit down and rest and stuff. We'll have the whole day, so...”

“Okay.” Mark decided. “Yes. I can come.”

“Cool. Okay. Yeah.” A careful grin was shot in his direction. “It'll be fun. I promise.”

 

*

 

It was fun. He pushed the stroller when he started to get tired, leaning on the handle a little to support his weight. The boys seemed to be loving it, were giggling at the monkeys, their eyes boggling when seals swam up to the glass. They had sandwiches at the cafeteria while Nicky spoon fed them mashed potato and stewed apple he'd packed in a couple of tupperware containers. Jay needed to be changed, so he left Rocco with Mark while he went to use the change table in the mothers room.

“Hey.” Mark said awkwardly, trying to entertain him with a stuffed lion they'd picked up in the gift-shop. “Erm... How's things with you?” The baby stared at him, eyes huge in a chubby face. “Your... uh... dad left you with me which... I guess is kind of flattering? I mean, we've only known each other for a couple of months, so... Yeah. Hey, look, a lion...” He held it a little closer, shook it slightly. Big eyes watched it move, tiny square teeth revealed in a smile. One of his shoes was coming a little loose, so Mark fixed it, reknotting the tiny laces. “There you go.”

“What's he telling you?” Nicky said. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

“Just judging me for my terrible baby skills.” Mark laughed. “I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“You're fine. Here...” He handed Jay to Mark, who took him carefully. “Hang on to this guy while we figure out if Rocco needs a clean-up as well.” He unbuckled Mark's new conversation partner, lifting him up. “He's alright. Of course now that I've said that he'll probably crap himself in about five minutes time when we're trying to get into the butterfly house. You're not good at timing, are you mate?”

“He's a rebel.”

“Takes after his dad.” Nicky kissed a tiny squashed nose then tucked him back into the stroller, buckling him in. He took Jay a minute later, who was busy trying to chew on Mark's shirt buttons. “Shit, sorry. There's drool all down your collar.”

“It's fine. Takes me back to college parties.” Mark joked. Nicky laughed, nudging his shoulder when they stood, both boys safely tucked in next to each other. “This is fun. We should do it again.”

“We haven't finished doing it today, yet.”

“No, but...” Mark sighed, looking for the words. A hand slid into his, just for a second. Squeezed.

“Yeah.” Nicky said, putting both hands back on the stroller. “I get ya.”

 

*

 

“You want to stop for a kebab or something?” Kian slurred. Mark shook his head, putting out a hand to steady himself on the lamp-post they were passing. He was a bit sloshed. They both were. Final exams were over and he had his first school posting already locked in to start in the new semester. It had called for a celebration. At five different bars.

“Cheeseburger?”

“Ooh, yeah...” They passed the kebab place, Kian's hand sliding into his and squeezing hard. There were a couple of guys stood outside, laughing drunkenly. Not that it was a surprise. It was past two in the morning. “Want to go home and shag?”

“You always want to go home and shag.”

“You've busted me. I have a problem. I'll have to stop.”

“Don't you dare.” Mark snorted, ducking his head to kiss a cheek that was flushed with drink. “I'm going to take you home and fuck you into the mattress.” He murmured, felt a shiver run through the body pressed against his side. “After I suck your cock.”

“Mmmm... yes.” Kian muttered. When he looked over, his eyes were dark. “Feel free.”

“Fuckin' faggots.” Mark started as he felt something hit the back of his legs. When he looked down there was half a kebab on the ground, sauce staining the back of his jeans. The two guys were still standing outside the kebab shop, laughing nonchalantly. Kian's hand left his.

“Don't...” Mark started. Kian was already walking back.

“You got a problem, cunt?”

They both snickered. Maybe that was the worst part. They didn't even look that invested in what they'd just done, as though it was as natural as picking their noses.

“Nah, mate.” One of them said. “Thought you looked hungry. Looked like you needed something in your mouth.”

“Kian, don't...”  
  
“Yeah, Kian. Don't.” The other one laughed. “Your girlfriend might get upset.”

A lot happened very quickly after that. Kian definitely threw the first punch, but the rest of it was a lot of kicking, punching, and yelling. Mark got his foot into someone's groin purely as a defence mechanism, but it was enough of a distraction for him to yank Kian away and leg it. Not that Kian was being cooperative, not when he was sitting on top of the other man's chest, fist cocking back and knuckles bloody.

“You idiot.” Mark murmured, once they were sat on their bed, wiping up Kian's eye with a clean tea-towel he was dabbing in water. His boyfriend hissed, flinching away. “Oh, it hurts, does it?”

“Sorry.” Kian mumbled.

“Yeah, well...” Mark sighed. “People are arseholes. You know that. I don't know why you let it get to you.”

“How can you not? It's...” Kian shook his head. His eye was coming up black. “I was so proud of you tonight, you know?”

“Ki...” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. A hand grasped his nape, stroking the hair curling in his neck. “You're a protective dickhead and I love you. But stop. There's no point getting hurt. Two drunk idiots doesn't make us any less real.”

“Yeah.” Kian muttered. He sniffed. “I know.” He lifted his face, drawing Mark into a kiss. “Forgive me?”

“Yeah.” Mark dipped the towel back in the water, holding Kian's cheek still so he could get to the cut under his eye. “Any point telling you not to do it again?”

“Any point saying I'll try?”

Mark snorted, bending in to kiss his nose.

 


	9. Chapter 8

“Gillian said she saw you the other day.”  
  
“Yeah.” Mark shrugged. “Coffee shop.”

“Yeah.” Shane hesitated. He'd popped around about an hour ago to return a couple of DVDs he'd borrowed. Mark wasn't sure why now – he'd leant them to Shane ages ago and had just made peace with the fact that he'd forgotten all about them. And it wasn't like he'd been desperate to watch Superman Returns again, even if Brandon Routh was a bit nice. “Lad from Nicole's daycare, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mark said again, feeling like there was an echo in here.

“Right. Yeah.” Shane nodded. “How's that going?”

“How's what going?”

“You know...” Shane gestured vaguely, other hand on his mug of tea. “Are you seeing him?”  
  
“You mean with my eyes?”

“You're being difficult.”

“How so?”

Shane sighed. Mark took a sip of his own tea.

“Gillian said he's...” Shane kept pausing midway through his sentences. It was driving Mark fucking crazy. “He's not bad news or anything, is he?”

“I'm not a fourteen year old girl, Shane.”

“No, but... I mean, is he the right person for you right now? I heard he's got... like, maybe he's had a few problems. You know. Emotionally, and... I just want to make sure you're not getting dragged down or...”

“You really need to stop talking.” Mark said, trying not to let anger invade his voice. His words came out flat and hard, anyway. Shane bit his lip. “I didn't take you for a gossip.”

“I'm not, I just wanted to make sure that you're okay.”

“I'm not.” He said quietly. “Why do you think I should be?”

“I don't.”

“Well, stop asking, because I'm not.” Mark retorted. “I'm not remotely okay. But at least Nicky doesn't try to make me okay. Everyone's always fucking asking me if I'm okay and checking that I'm okay, but not a single person actually cares if I am! They only care that they don't have to waste their own time worrying about me. Because if I'm okay, then nobody else has to feel bad! Kian's gone, okay? He's fucking gone, he's not coming back. I watched him fucking _die_ Shane. I watched the whole world get ripped out from under me and now everything's screaming fucking pain every single minute and it's like someone's constantly sticking a dagger into me and every time it twists all I can see is his fucking _face_ and all I can hear is him fucking suffocating on his own blood and I'll _never fucking see him again!_ I am _not_ okay!”

Mark scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to think around the sudden swell of rage and misery. Shane looked like he was about to cry.

“I'm sorry.” Mark sat back down, realising suddenly that he'd stood up, that he'd been shouting.

“I...” Shane stood up. “I'm going to the bathroom.”

He was in there for a long time, but when he came out his eyes were red. Mark didn't bother to mention it. There didn't seem much point. They had another halting cup of tea, made idle promises to meet up again soon, then Shane left, the door closing quietly behind him while Mark flopped back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling for answers.

“You're an arsehole.”

“I'm not.”

“He's trying his best.” Kian's face leaned over him, blue eyes looked down in concern. “He wasn't there. He wants to help.”

“He doesn't understand.”

“You really going to blame him for that?” Kian frowned. “You going to get upset because nothing horrible happened to his family? That's just petty. Anyway, I'm the one who usually flies off the handle.”

“Would you please stop pretending like you understand me?”

“You don't think I do? I always did.”

“Yeah.” Mark sighed, burying his face in his arms. “I don't know any more.”

“Maybe you should call Nicky.”

“Why?”

“Because you're upset and he makes you feel better. And he understands you. Better than I do, anyway.”

“I don't want to be weird. He'll think I'm being clingy or something.”

“You haven't seen him in days.” Kian pointed out. It was true. Nicky had had the kids and Mark hadn't felt up to moving around much after the zoo had taken it out of him. “Why don't you go to his karaoke thing tonight?”

“He didn't invite me.”

“It's a pub, not a secret society. Just put on a clean shirt, get a cab, and go visit. Then at least he'll think you can leave the house under your own steam.”

“I can.”

“Haven't seen it lately.” Kian crossed his arms. “Go pick a shirt. And not the blue one. I'm sick of it.”

“Since when?”

But Kian was already gone.

 

*

 

Mark hadn't replaced the car after the accident. Hadn't sat behind the wheel of one, actually. He'd thought about it more than once, but it just made him too anxious. He wasn't a hundred percent sure why. He hadn't been driving when it had happened, and he was still okay with being a passenger – if a bit jumpy – but the entire concept felt too hard. Like maybe it was too much responsibility. Like maybe his leg would give out, or he'd have another episode or something and be the reason for someone else losing the person they loved.

It didn't really matter. He only left the house for his walk, and the general cloud of pity that seemed to surround him more or less guaranteed that if he was invited somewhere he'd be picked up.

He called a cab at seven thirty and was in front of the pub just after eight. Nicky had mentioned the name of it when they'd seen each other at the zoo on Saturday. He couldn't call him. They'd somehow managed not to trade phone numbers, even after all this time. Mark wasn't sure why he was holding out. Maybe some last vestige of autonomy, that he could say he didn't depend on Nicky after all, some defence mechanism so Nicky couldn't contact him unless he wanted him to.

Nicky didn't see him at first. He settled in up the back to watch, not wanting to interrupt, got a garlic bread and a lemonade. It wasn't until some girl was warbling Celine Dion and Nicky was doing the rounds to drum up interest that he was finally noticed.

“Hey there, handsome.” Elbows leaned on the edge of his table, a cheeky face dropping into his line of vision. “You gonna sing us a song?”

“Just came to check out the talent.” Mark smiled, laughing when Nicky chucked him lightly on the chin. “I didn't want to distract you.”

“Too late.” He got a wink. “Haven't seen you in a few days.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No bother.” The corner of his garlic bread was ripped off and popped between pouting lips. “Cheers, I was starving.” A hand tousled his hair. “Nice to see you. I missed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nicky almost blushed. It was very cute. “I have to get back to it, but hang around, okay? I'll buy you a drink.”

A couple more people sang, then Nicky did a version of Bob The Builder that had the whole room singing along, then another lass got up to do an okay attempt at Jolene. By the time it was ten o'clock the place was packed out and there was a small queue of people waiting for their turn. It was almost beautiful to watch, like Nicky had found a little pocket of peace, like this was something he knew how to do without second-guessing or self-consciousness.

“We've got fifteen minutes left.” Nicky finally came back over. Mark glanced at his watch. It was almost eleven. The time had flown. “I can fit you in if you want to do one?” The book slid across the table. “Come on. I'll be disappointed if you've come all this way and I don't get you to sing.”

He began to look through as Nicky went back to it. It was hard finding one. They all seemed to have too much meaning to them. They all seemed to be about love or loss. Songs he loved but couldn't get up there and sing without bursting into tears. Songs he hated for the same reason. Songs he didn't want to sing in case Nicky got the wrong impression, in case he thought Mark was singing them to him. By the time Nicky came back over he was totally at a loss, had been staring at the P section for about five minutes and trying to figure out which Prince song least sounded like he wanted to fuck someone.

“Having trouble?”

“Yeah, um...” Mark sighed. “I don't know. Not tonight, maybe.”

“Well, that's just not good enough.” Nicky winked, turning the page around. “Ooh, Prince. You'd do that well.”

“Thank you?”

“You're welcome.” Nicky laughed. “Come on. Let's shake you up a bit.” He ran his index fingers down the page then stopped, laughing. “Got one. Trust me?”  
  
“Absolutely not.”

“Brilliant.” Nicky flounced off, the book in his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, have I got a treat for you!” He announced. Mark buried his face in his hands, hearing the laugh echo around the room. “We've got Mark Feehily here tonight. He's taking a break from working on his third album and he's decided to grace us with his presence. Give it up!” He heard a confused murmur ripple through the room, a couple of claps, and tried his best to not trip over as he limped up to the stage. Nicky grinned, handing him the microphone. “And tonight he's going to sing Kiss, by Prince!”

Fuck. Mark felt himself go hot. Of course it was the most uptempo fucking song on the list. Nicky slapped him on the back and jumped off just as the first notes started up.

He made it through the first verse okay and by the time he hit the chorus he was actually sort of enjoying himself. Nicky was dancing beside the stage, which was good because Mark couldn't have moved his own legs if he'd tried. He hit the high notes okay, a few people cheered, and by the time he staggered down from the stage he had the feeling that it hadn't gone as horribly as he'd expected. Nicky pulled him straight into a hug.

“Brilliant!” He whooped, holding him back at arms length. Then Mark was being let go while Nicky jumped back on the stage. “And that's it, folks! Hope you had fun. Think we discovered a few new talents tonight.” He said a few more pleasantries and then he was back down, hugging Mark again.

He helped load everything back into Nicky's car and climbed into the front seat at the older man's instruction, fastening his seatbelt. A hand reached over, squeezing his knee.

He invited Nicky in for a cup of tea. Five minutes later they were sat on his couch together, giggling over a story Nicky was telling about a gig he'd done and sort of watching a late-night comedy show. It was almost midnight. By one o'clock Mark had a bag of frozen chips in the oven and Nicky was demanding to listen to some of the stuff he'd written.

“It's a bit amateur.”

“I'm a bit amateur.” Nicky retorted. “Let me hear. I bet it's amazing.”

“I bet it isn't.” Mark sighed, but Nicky's face was honest and expectant so he went to get his laptop, grabbing the headphones. He picked one that was just about done and hit play, biting his lip nervously while Nicky shifted on the couch, holding the cups tighter to his ears with both hands and trying to gauge where the song was up to from his facial expressions.

By the time it finished there were tears streaming down Nicky's cheeks.

“It wasn't that bad.” Mark joked awkwardly. Nicky swallowed, wiping his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Mark.” He croaked. “I...” He shook his head. “That's... when did you write that?”

“Couple of weeks ago.” Mark murmured. He had, right after that particularly traumatic wet dream, when he'd still been all fucked up from his cold and had been avoiding seeing Nicky. “I had a bad week.”

“God.” Nicky wiped his eyes again. “Come here. Shit. I need to give you a hug or something so I don't fall apart.”

“Sorry.”

“No...” Arms wrapped around him when he moved closer, a kiss brushing his hair. “I wish I could bring him back for you. I wish I could...” He let out a shuddering breath. “What's it called?”

“I dunno. Miss You When I'm Dreaming at the moment.” Mark reached over to close the laptop. “It's not quite done. I think I need to fix up the percussion a little bit.”

“It's perfect. Fuck.” Another kiss touched his forehead, then Nicky was kissing his cheeks, his eyelids. Mark didn't know what to do with himself. A second later he was kissing Nicky back, hearing a surprised whimper that might have been himself, feeling fingers thread through his hair as soft lips parted under his mouth, tasting of tears. His hands were on Nicky's waist a second later, the headphones shoved out of their way, the cord tangling on his wrist then hitting the floor unheeded, Nicky's arm hooking his shoulders and crushing them together.

Neither of them spoke right away. There didn't appear to be much to say, and Mark had a sudden horrible feeling that if he did it would break the spell, that he'd realise exactly what he was doing, that the mouth tilting under his wasn't Kian, that the growling gasps were coming from a throat that was longer and paler, that the body sliding down under him was more slender and wiry, not solid and curvy like Kian had been.

“I want you.” Nicky muttered, his hands framing Mark's face and holding him into kiss after kiss, still slick and salty. Mark groaned, closing his eyes and trying not to focus too much on what was going on, just knowing that he was hard and that acknowledging that fact was far too much to deal with without ending up sobbing on the floor and looking like a crazy person. A leg hooked his, yanking them together, and Nicky was hard against him. Hard and rocking up, teeth scraping his bottom lip, hot gasps flooding his mouth.

When he opened his eyes again, Kian was looking back at him.

“No...” He shoved Nicky away, shot backwards, scrubbing his eyes. When he looked up Nicky's eyes were wide and startled, his chest heaving breathlessly. “I...”  
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
“No. Um.” He felt a sob tear at his throat. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.” He scrubbed his eyes again, making sure Kian was definitely gone. Because of course he was. But for a second...

Blonde hair. Blue eyes. He'd just thought he'd seen...

“I'm sorry. I can't...” He backed away a little more, felt his back collide with the armrest. “I can't.” He wiped his nose, thought he smelled mud on the air. “You should go.”

“Mark...”

“I... I can't. Just...” He stood, felt his foot catch on the headphone cord, and then he was falling, hitting the ground hard and feeling everything jar at once, a sudden shock of pressure. Then the pain. Hard, thumping, shrieking pain. He thought he was going to grey out, but then Nicky was over him, face twisted in horror.

“Shit. Jesus. Are you okay?”

“I...” A sobbing breath made it out of his chest. “Pills.”

“Yeah. I'll...” Nicky ran, came back a second later. “How many?”

“Three. Fuck...” He closed his eyes as his whole body seized.

“I'm calling an ambulance.”

“It's not broken.” Mark bit his lip, trying to think past the agony thumping a drumbeat into his side. The last place he wanted to be was the hospital, looking at those sterile white walls again and feeling totally fucking helpless and empty. The pills were pressed to his mouth, water following, and he swallowed, fingernails biting into the carpet while he waited for them to work. “No ambulance.” He spat when he saw Nicky reach for his phone. “Don't you dare.”

“You're hurt...”

“I'm. Fine.” He forced it out through gritted teeth, biting down on the pain. It was like ice and fire at the same time. “Turn off the oven. I don't want the house burning down.”

Nicky disappeared.

“Bit of an overreaction.”

“Fuck off.” Mark growled. “You really want to do this right now?”

“It was a kiss. Get over yourself.” Kian looked a little older, strangely. Older than he had been, the laugh lines around his eyes deeper, his cheeks thick with stubble, hair longer and flopping over his forehead. Mark stared, taking in a blue t-shirt and a pair of surf shorts that made no sense with the weather.

“So why did you fucking show up in the middle of it?”

“I didn't. You did that.” Kian said quietly. There were two of them, this one settling beside the first one on the end of the couch, adjusting his brown jacket. “You like him, Marky. Why won't you just let yourself be happy? He's good for you.”

“You were good for me.”

“And I'm gone.” His Kian shrugged. “You're not helping anyone by pretending otherwise.”

“Don't you love me?” The voice came from behind him. He looked up, saw a backwards baseball cap and a tight black t-shirt. Younger Kian crouched down, his face twisted into a uneasy frown. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do.”

“You said there was nobody else.” Blue eyes filled with tears.

“Would you shut up?” Older Kian rolled his eyes. “For god's sake. We're not fucking teenagers any more. You going to keep acting like everything's a fairytale?”

“What, so you just want him to fuck other people?”

“What's the difference?” His Kian said. “We're not here anyway. He's cracked it.”

“We were gonna get married.” Younger Kian whispered, glancing at his engagement ring. “I asked him to marry me. We were gonna be a family.”

“Fuck it hurts.” His Kian's face was pinching in pain and as Mark watched a gash slowly opened above his eyebrow, like he was being unzipped, beginning to seep blood. Within a moment it was gushing, filling his eyesocket. He coughed, a red trickle creeping down from the corner of his mouth. “I can't breathe.”

“No...” Mark tried to reach, but he couldn't move. “No, don't... Kian...”

“You going to help him?” Younger Kian asked, his voice high and panicked. “Why aren't you helping him?”

“Kian...”

“Can't...” One of the Kians coughed, a strangled, suffocated cough. He wasn't sure which one.

“FUCK OFF!” Mark shouted. “Just _LEAVE ME ALONE!”_

There was a sudden shock of pain and his vision was whipped to the side, like tumbling down a hill. He blinked stars away, felt his cheek sting.

“Mark...” Hands clenched on his shoulders. “Can you hear me?”

“I...” He blinked again, shaking his head. “What...?”

“I slapped you. I didn't know what else to...” Nicky was biting his lip, eyes sparkling with tears. “I'm calling an ambulance.”

“No...” Mark protested. His cheeks were wet, sticky with tears. He didn't know when that had happened, whether it had been the pain or the fright. The smell of mud was starting to get less thick, like it was starting to seep out of the room. “No. I'm...” He sucked in a deep breath, trying to find the thoughts that had shattered across the floor when he'd fallen. “Please leave.” He whispered helplessly. “I don't want you to see this.”

“No.” Nicky murmured. Something covered Mark a second later, tucking in around his shoulders. Nicky's coat. It smelled like him. Fingers stroked through his hair. “You're shaking. Did you hit your head? I need to know.”

“I... I don't think so.” He lifted his hand, felt the back of his skull. “No.”

“Okay.” Nicky's sigh was relieved. “We're just going to stay right here until you can get up again, alright?”

“Please don't look at me.”

“I like looking at you.” Nicky shuffled up, began to stroke hair gently off his forehead. Mark closed his eyes. It was easier than looking up at him. “You're a bit cute.”

“You don't have to do this.”

“I want to.” He couldn't reply. Didn't know how to. “Tell me what happened.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.” The fingers changed direction, smoothing his hair back out again. “You had a freakout?”

“Yeah.”  
  
“Because I kissed you?”

“Yes.” Mark admitted softly. “I'm sorry. It's not you.”

“And then what happened?”

“I...” He was shaking harder. Nicky tucked the coat in tighter around him. It didn't really help. “I talk to Kian.” He admitted finally, the words a whisper that barely sidled from the corner of his mouth. “He talks to me sometimes.” His eyes were still closed so he didn't see Nicky's expression, but the fingers in his hair didn't falter.  
  
“What does he say?”

“I don't know. Just... things. We talk about stuff sometimes. Like, if I need help working through things I just... I ask him and he says what he probably would have said. He was always sensible, and he'd always tell me when I was being an idiot, so...”

“Like a little guardian angel.” There was a smile in Nicky's voice. The touch moved to his temples, making slow circles. It was a bit calming, distracting him from the pain while the medication kicked in. “That's sort of nice.”

“Yeah, except he's not really there, is he? I'm just crazy.” Mark huffed. “Because I can't let him go.” He sighed, feeling his eyes prickle with fresh tears. “Like, I'll just look up and he's standing right there asking me if I really want to put on that shirt, or whether I've remembered to turn off the stove or... I don't know. He's just there. We still watch TV together, as weird as it sounds, because I know what he'd say about the Big Brother housemates or which movies he'd think were funny.”

“You knew him really well.”

“Yeah.” A lump filled his throat. “I did.”

“He was really lucky then.” Nicky murmured. “That doesn't sound so bad.”

“Yeah, except sometimes...” Mark swallowed hard. “Sometimes it's not so nice. Sometimes I'll see... I'll see him choking and bleeding and... and I can't get to him. I couldn't get to him.” He heard his voice crack. “And he can't breathe and he wants me to help but... but I'm trapped. He's trapped, and the car's filling with mud and... and nobody's helping. I can't help. I...” He sobbed thickly, felt hands caress his face while he trembled. “I tried to reach him but...”

“Shhh...” Nicky whispered. “Oh, love...” The endearment sounded sweet on Nicky's breath, low and sobering. For a second Mark thought Nicky was going to say what everyone said. 'It wasn't your fault', 'stop beating yourself up', 'it's all over now'. “I'm so sorry that had to happen.” He said instead. “It wasn't fair.”

“No.” Mark breathed. “It wasn't. He was mine.”

“He was.”

“He's not coming back.”

“No.” Nicky agreed. “I wish he was, but he isn't.” A kiss brushed his forehead. He opened his eyes, saw a kind face, a small smile that was sympathy instead of pity. Fingers kept stroking his hair until he stopped shaking.

 


	10. Chapter 9

He woke up on a mattress on his living room floor, didn't know where he was for a second. Then it all came flooding back. The kiss. The pain, which was certainly back with a vengeance, pulsing in his side. Kian.

Nicky.

He'd dragged the other mattress in from the garage, dusted it off a bit, then made it up with the sheets from the hall cupboard, hauling the pillows and duvet down from the upstairs bedroom. Mark had climbed onto it, more sure his hip hadn't rebroken when he managed to move it, however slightly, Nicky helping him to heave his weight on, tucking him in. Then he'd lay down beside him, fingers drifting slowly through his hair until he'd managed to slip into an uneasy sleep.

He was still there, curled up next to Mark under the same blanket but not touching him, his lips slightly parted in sleep. He looked oddly beautiful, his hair floppy and a bit stiff where the gel was still sticking it together, all flat on one side. Almost peaceful, eyelids shifting a little and twitching long golden lashes.

It was early, the sun just rising and shattering as it filtered through the frost on the windows, painting the room with a flat orange glow. He stared at the ceiling, watching shadows shift as the trees outside swayed in the morning breeze.

“Hey.” Nicky whispered. He looked back down into drowsy blue eyes that were barely cracked open. “Morning.”

“Morning.” He croaked, voice sticking with sleep. “Did I wake you?”

“It's fine.” Fingers touched his arm lightly. “How are you doing?”

“I'm okay.” He winced. “Going to need some painkillers in a second.”

“I'll sort you out.” Nicky was already climbing up, unsteady on sleepy legs. There was general thumping and clattering, and soon Nicky came back with a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. Mark accepted them both gratefully, letting Nicky help him sit up a little so he could eat.

“Thanks.”  
  
“Not a problem at all.” Fingers touched his shoulder while he spooned bran flakes into his mouth. “I need to head off soon. Gotta get Keano fed and walked or he'll probably shit on my couch just to spite me.”

“No, of course. Sorry.” Mark wiped milk off his mouth. “You don't have to stay.”

“I'll come back, though.” Nicky smiled. “I'll only be an hour or so.”

“You don't have to.” Mark repeated. “I don't want to keep you.”

“I'll come back.”

He found himself smiling, defeated, then swallowed two tablets with his juice, shifting to keep the weight off the wrong spots while he waited for them to kick in.

Nicky left not long after that. He wanted to tidy himself up, sort of, managed to haul himself to the bathroom to at least have a pee and brush his teeth, but the idea of standing in the shower was too hard and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get back out of the bath once he was in it. By the time Nicky came out he'd managed to brush his hair, change into clean pyjamas, spray on some deodorant and look like a respectable human being, even if he was laying on a mattress on the floor, back propped up on a couple of pillows while he watched morning talk shows. Keano seemed to appreciate it, though, following Nicky into the house and curling up next to Mark on the sheets, warm and hairy between them.

He slept, mostly. Woke up for lunch, slept some more. Dinner was late when he finally woke up again around nine that night, eyes flickering open to a dark room bathed in the glow of the television, his head in Nicky's lap and fingers running through his hair. Nicky took Keano for a quick walk then they split a pepperoni pizza and garlic bread that Nicky ordered, watching television and tossing the labrador bits of meat that had fallen off the pizza base.

“Mark?”

It was late. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep yet, was sort of waiting another half-hour until he could take another round of pills before bed.

“Yeah?” He said quietly. He was laid on his side, off his bad hip. Nicky was facing him, his hands tucked under his chin.

“I like being here with you.”

“I like having you here.” He admitted, smiling when a hand caught his, bringing their shared grip up to rest between them. A thumb traced over the back of his hand, tickling and soothing at the same time. “I'm sorry I'm all messed up.”

“You're not.” Fingers reached up, tracing his cheek. Mark realised after a minute that they were following the spiderweb of his scars, drawing delicate patterns down his jaw. A thumb brushed over the worst of them, up near his forehead. He closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the feeling without getting too self-conscious. “Was this glass?”

“Yeah.” He said. “And the ones on my legs.”

“Do you have others?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Mostly from surgery. The one on my hip's the worst.” It was, a long red and white pucker about five inches long. He tried not to look at it too much. “And on my arm...” He pushed up his sleeve to show the small one above his elbow. “And my wrist, obviously.”

His hand was tugged up, turned so Nicky could look at it. Fingers left his cheek to draw over his wrist, the tips pressing to the four little puncture wounds, brushing out over where he'd ripped it. A kiss pressed to uneven skin. Mark felt like he was about to cry.

“I'll stay, okay?” Nicky pulled away with a final kiss, fingers going back to stroke Mark's face. “Until you want me to go.”

Mark nodded, letting his eyes close to the feeling of a thumb stroking the curve of his ear.

 

*

 

It was nice out here. He hadn't been before. It had been excuse after excuse. I can't travel that far. I have a doctor's appointment. I don't know, mam, maybe next week when I'm not in so much pain. But his father had driven down specially, come the four hours to pick him up so he wouldn't have an excuse to not take the train. The drive had been quiet, sitting in the front seat and feeling the pressure on his healing bones become worse and worse, jarring on every bump and cobble, shaking on gravel. By the time he stepped out at Sligo he was almost crying with the pain.

So he'd slept. Hidden away in his old bedroom and put it off another day. Woken up the next morning to his mother already with breakfast on and telling him to get into his clothes. She'd parked on the street and stayed there while he'd hobbled up and down the rows, looking for the new white slab with Kian's name on it.

It had made sense. This was Kian's home. Dublin never had been, had only been his place as far as Mark was there. His family had organised it. Mark had been unconscious when it had happened, still knocked out after his second surgery and not even aware yet that Kian was gone.

Maybe part of him was glad. Seeing Kian's grave was like reminding himself that he was gone and he couldn't find a way to believe that. There was no slot that that information could fit into, no key that fit that lock. Not when Kian was still here. Had to still be here. Because Mark couldn't...

“I can't do it without you.” He whispered. The stone was simple. Son of, in loving memory, lived, died, loved. His own name looked funny on there, like it didn't quite belong. He supposed he appreciated that they'd thought to add him at all, but it was sort of sickening seeing his name on a gravestone that wasn't his own. “Come back.”

Kian didn't reply. How could he? He was there in the ground beneath Mark's feet, cold and alone, empty of all the fire Mark had so so loved. Laid there in the dark, waiting to become memory and nothingness. There were flowers on the grave, bright and alive. Mark hated them.

He thought about apologising for taking so long. Thought about saying anything. But it all felt like screaming into a vacuum. Kian wasn't here anyway.

He got back in the car, went home for lunch, and then quietly snuck out and took the next train back, staring out while fingers curled into his and a smile danced in the reflection of the window.

 

*

 

He managed a shower the next day, hanging onto the railing and giving himself a quick rinse off with some soap that he quickly ran through his hair as well. Not ideal, but fumbling about with shampoo bottles and things was far too hard and he mostly just didn't want to smell. Not with Nicky still sitting less than a foot away from him.

Nicky was good company. They watched television, Nicky made him cups of tea and brought him food, popping out every now and then to walk Keano or get groceries and dog food. He left the dog with Mark while he went out to work and when he finally got back in that night Mark had managed to order a Chinese, go to the door to collect it, and put it in the fridge. They ate reheated fried rice and spring rolls and watched a couple of DVDs while Keano chewed a bit of rope in front of the fire Nicky built.

The next night Mark made it up to his own bed, collapsing onto the sheets and crying while Nicky had a shower, drying his eyes when he heard the water go off. Nicky knew what he'd been doing, but he didn't really mind. They both slept, Nicky spooned carefully around his back, fingers curled around his arm.

 

*

 

“Where's daddy...?” Nicky covered his eyes theatrically. “There he is!” The little boy in red was cackling hysterically, like it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Jay was asleep, had crashed out right after lunch, sleepy and sticky with peach juice. Mark snorted a laugh, watching while Nicky covered his eyes again. “Where'd he go?”

“Is he there?” Mark piped up. “I bet he's there.”

“There he is!” Nicky exclaimed. Rocco fell backwards with laughter, flopping onto the carpet. Mark giggled. He was sat on his couch while Nicky and Rocco played on the floor, Jay asleep in a soft portable bed Nicky had dragged out of the back of the car.

He was almost back to normal now. It had been two weeks. Mostly swelling, in the end, nothing seriously damaged, though after a few days Nicky had made him go to the doctor to get it checked out and he was on a anti-inflammatories to help it along. The mattress had been stored away again and he was sleeping in his own bed every night, Nicky right beside him.

It was odd. Nothing was happening but Mark almost felt settled. Like a relationship was somehow happening to him without him being directly involved. It was sort of nice. Like this was about companionship more than it was about anything physical. Nicky's presence made him feel happy and comfortable in a way that he hadn't in ages, made him forget for tiny moments that things were broken because for once nobody was trying to scoop up the pieces and cram them back together.

He'd only gone out once or twice, just to the beach to let Keano run around and then back up the hill to sink gratefully onto the couch. He knew he should probably get out and about though, at least to go to the shops. The boys were turning one in a little under a month and he felt like he should get them something, even if it was something small. Because he knew Nicky would appreciate it.

All of a sudden, Rocco started to cry.

“Ah... shit.” Nicky's nose wrinkled. A second later Mark's did too. “Well, that's the end of that. Come on, lad.” He hefted the baby and stood up. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”  
  
“Go for it. Yeah.” He pinched his nose, just glad it meant the kid was leaving the room. “I'll watch Jay.”

“Cheers. It's okay, Rocco...” He started to say as he moved down the hall “Are you smelly? I bet you're smelly. But if you piss on daddy's face while he's changing you, he's going to piss on yours. Sound fair? Good stuff.” The baby was crying a little less now, was just making hiccuping little sobs. Mark rolled his eyes, looking down at the other one, which wasn't doing much of interest. Keano was asleep on the floor next to him.

The doorbell rang.

“Erm...” Mark looked down at the baby, not sure what the hell he was supposed to do. Leaving him here seemed wrong, especially when he'd said he'd keep an eye out, but he didn't know what the protocol was at all. Knowing his luck it'd be Jehovah's bloody Witnesses.

The doorbell rang again.

“Coming!” He called, pushing himself to his feet. His hip wobbled a little but seemed to take his weight. He scooped up Jay, settling him into one arm and feeling him stir unhappily, standing still until he was more comfortable, then began to work his way carefully to the door, hoping this was seriously bloody important.

“Hey.” Shane stared at the bundle in his arms, the green overalls. Gillian was behind him, Nicole in her arms.

“Baby!” She crowed, reaching out.

“Hi. Sorry.” Jay stirred again, starting to whimper. “Just...a sec. He just got to sleep.”

“Mark?”

“I'm here!” He called back.

“Erm...” Shane was still staring. “Bad time?” Nicky was already coming down the hall, Rocco in his arms and looking a bit happier. “Sorry. Just thought we'd pop over and say hi. Haven't seen you in a few weeks.”

“I've been a bit...” He glanced back at Nicky. “Busy. Uh...” He stood back a little. “You want to come in?”

They did, apparently. Shane and Nicky shook hands and then Nicky buzzed off to make some more tea while Shane sat down on the couch, looking bewildered while Keano sniffed his hand. Nicole sat down to play with the boys, Gillian sitting with her and helping her to be careful. She was starting to show a bit, had to be almost five months along.

“So you're alright, then?”  
  
“Yeah. I guess.” Mark shrugged. “Is that why you came over?”

“I...” Shane looked around, at the toys on the floor and the bed sat on the carpet. Jay was well and truly awake now, was holding himself up on the edge of the coffee table while Nicole played with one of his teddy bears. “No. Just thought I'd check in. Make sure...” He squinted when Nicky reached over the back of the couch to press a mug into his hands then disappeared again. “This is a bit domestic.”

“Yeah, it's his weekend so I said they could hang out here. Bit more space.” Mark shrugged. “We went to the zoo a few weeks ago.”

“That's nice.” Shane took a careful sip. “Are you um... dating him or?”

“No.” Mark shrugged. “We just get along alright.” Fingers touched his shoulder as Nicky came back through with another mug for him.

“Milk and one.” Nicky winked, wandering off again. Shane stared.

They didn't stay long. They all had a cuppa, Nicole had some of the apple juice Nicky had brought for the boys, and then they left. He sank back down on the couch after he shut the door, getting a cheeky smirk.

“They think we're shagging.”

“They can think whatever they want.” Mark replied, bending to scratch Keano behind the ears.

 

*

 

It was getting a little warmer now, the mornings less of a struggle to get out of bed. When Mark woke it was already light out and he was by himself, could hear the shower running in the bathroom and the low twitter of birds outside his window.

“Kian?” He whispered, just to check. The older boy hadn't been around much lately. There hadn't really been time to talk to him, not with Nicky here and taking up every waking moment.

“Hey.” He was sat on the end of the bed but looked off somehow. As Mark watched he disappeared and reappeared by the door, then blinked out once or twice before settling next to him, looking down. “Need something?”

“No...” He admitted. “Just making sure.”  
  
“Oh.” Kian shrugged. “Right, well...” He scratched his hair. “Don't know what to tell you.”

“Oh.” Mark bit his lip. “Do you mind that Nicky's here all the time?”

“Not really. I guess at one point I would have been jealous, but I don't really have a leg to stand on with that argument, do I?” He didn't have any legs at all. Mark blinked, trying to get them to come back into focus, but when he did the rest of Kian seemed to disappear. He looked back up, settling on laughing blue eyes that never changed.

“I miss you.”

Kian smiled. When Mark went to speak again he was already gone.

He stood on shaking legs, heading over to the bathroom door to grab his robe from the hook. The shower was still running inside and he could hear the splash of water as Nicky shifted underneath it.

A soft moan.

He paused, not sure what he'd heard, and then heard it again. Pressed his ear to the door to check.

“Yes...” Nicky gasped breathlessly. “Mark...”

He shot back from the door, hands up in sudden blind defence, stumbling backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat down quickly, his hip twinging at the soft impact. Cheeks burning and his pyjama pants inexplicably tight. Buried his face in his hands, trying to think.

He got back up, pressed his ear to the door again and heard another soft whimper, then a quiet groan that sounded like it was spilling out from under a bitten lip. A louder whining grunt. The water shut off a second later.

Mark made himself scarce, going downstairs to get the kettle on and start some breakfast. By the time Nicky came down the older boy was a bit flushed but seemed cheerful, leaned in to kiss his cheek chastely while Mark spread butter on toast. Mark touched his fingers to the spot, feeling it tingle on his skin. A hand touched his shoulder.

“You sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” He looked around, caught a cheeky pout and clear eyes. “I think so.”

 

*

 

Nicky said he wanted to go get some groceries done so Mark went with him. They moved slowly around the supermarket, Mark leant on the handle of the trolley while Nicky tossed things in, not bothering to separate them into his stuff and Mark's. They were all going to end up at the same place anyway, and it wasn't like Nicky had really gone home in the last three or four weeks. His toothbrush had been planted firmly next to Mark's in the cup on the sink, and the house was starting to smell like dog. Not in a bad way, but Keano had a bowl in the kitchen now, a green ceramic one with white bones painted on it.

A huge bag of dog food landed in the trolley with a thump, a smiling German Shepherd on the label.

“Nicky...” He started hesitantly, looking down at the pile of fruit, vegetables, and frozen meals piling up in the cart.

“Yeah?” The other man was stretching up for a packet of doggy treats on the high shelf, his whole body strung taut. Mark could see a little bare stomach, slightly ginger fuzz trailing down from his belly button. The treats were tossed in a second later, landing on top of the eggs.

“Are we a couple?”

Nicky glanced over, teeth scraping over his bottom lip. A second later he fell in beside Mark, moving slowly down the aisle.

“I don't know.” He said finally. “I said I'd stay until you told me not to. Do you want me to go?”

“No.” Mark sighed. “I don't think so.” He bit his lip, watching the linoleum floor move past through the gaps in the cart. One of the wheels was a little sticky. “I just feel like I've somehow managed... to fall into a relationship or something. Which was absolutely the last thing I meant to do.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“I'm not sure.” He paused, trying to get his thoughts in order. “I'm really not...”

“Yeah.” Fingers touched his, threading through them on the handle of the trolley. They stayed there while they turned the corner, then let go so Nicky could grab a couple of bottles of shampoo. “I don't expect anything.”

“Shouldn't you, though?” Mark asked. “I mean, you basically live at my house, we sleep in the same bed...”

“And?” Nicky shrugged. “I think we can both agree that doing what we're supposed to do has never worked out very well in the past.” He came back over. “It's the social checklist thing again, isn't it? I'm not going to sleep with you so other people can figure out how to label it.”

“Do you... want to sleep with me?”

“Yes.” Nicky said promptly. Mark felt his cheeks go red. “Which is sort of a nice feeling. I haven't wanted to sleep with anyone in a long time. It doesn't mean I'm some arsehole who can't control myself.”

“I feel like I'm letting you down, then.”

“I wouldn't.” Fingers touched his again. “I want to do a lot of things. I want to go see a World Cup final in person, I want to win the lottery, I want to upgrade the karaoke machine to the new model because it's a bit lighter and doesn't need as much set-up. I'm not going to be upset if I don't do any of those things.”

“Yeah, but those are big things. This is just me being stupid.”

“This is a big thing too. For you, it is. For me too, I guess.” A hand touched his back, stroking gently while they walked. “I never intended for this to be a relationship, really. I just liked having someone to talk to. Like, yeah, I flirted with you a bit at the beginning but that wasn't really the point.”

“I've never slept with anyone but him.”

“I know.” Nicky nodded. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

“I fancy you.” Mark admitted. “You're really attractive and... and yeah, sexy. Definitely.” That got a wink. “But that's not the same as having sex.”

“Do you want to have sex?”

“I don't think I could right now, no.” He shook his head. “Partly because of Kian, but also because the idea of anyone seeing me naked at all is way too hard. I don't even like looking at myself. There's too many scars and I can't...” He stared back down into the trolley. “I don't feel like it belongs to me anymore. Like I'm just sort of piloting this body from somewhere else.”

“Where's that?”

“I don't know. Sometimes it feels like a bloody funhouse maze, sometimes it just feels...” He swallowed hard. “Empty. Black. And I'm not sure if I'm in there by myself.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I don't know.” The hand was still stroking his back. “If it means anything, I... I think I'd be upset if you slept with anyone else. That sounds selfish.”

“No.” A kiss touched his cheek, small and damp. “It sounds fine.”

 


	11. Chapter 10

“Oh. Ow. Shit. _Ow._ ”

“I'm stopping. We can stop.”

“No we can't.” Kian growled. He was practically purple, tears in his eyes, sweat dripping down over his temples. “We're doing this.”

“Why?” Mark sighed. He was halfway in, wasn't sure if he was even turned on any more. Kian felt tight and slick around him and being hard wasn't at all a problem, but he'd been whimpering from the start and Mark wasn't sure that he could finish like this, not if Kian wasn't enjoying it.

“Because I did it to you.” Kian snapped. “And if you're going to do it then so am I.”

“Yeah, but I liked it.” Mark argued. He leaned down on his elbows, running his fingers through damp hair. “This isn't supposed to be a personal challenge, you know. What are you trying to prove?” Lips twisted into a huffy frown. “I'm stopping. We're stopping.” He began to pull out but was stopped by legs wrapping around his waist.

“No. Please.” The boy under him sucked in a deep breath. “It'll be okay in a minute. Just wait.”

Mark kissed his nose, holding still and feeling knees shift at his waist, watching eyes squeeze shut.

“I love you.” He said quietly. A small smile quirked at Kian's mouth, but his eyes stayed closed, a blush staining his cheeks. “I'll love you even if we don't.”

“I want to.” Kian murmured. A kiss brushed his lips, trembling and wet. They'd been snogging for ages before this, making out slowly on the bed in Mark's dorm, the door locked to keep out his twat room-mate, who was at some exhibit at a gallery Mark 'wouldn't have heard of' and probably wouldn't be back for hours anyway. Then he'd slid a finger slowly in, felt Kian roll and whimper, and it had gained momentum rather quickly from there.

Kian breathed out slowly, his body relaxing a little. Mark pushed in a little more while he could, felt a whimper.

“It's okay.” Mark whispered. “Relax into it. I've got you.”

“I just... ah...” Kian hissed under a bitten lip. “I just wanted you inside me.” He whispered. “To feel you because... oh.” That one was a shiver of pleasure, Mark could swear it. He tried to replicate the movement, heard Kian gasp. “Oh.”

“There?” Mark murmured. “Feels good there?”

“Yes.” Kian mumbled. Mark did it again. “Jesus.” He gasped. “Oh god.”

“Got you.” Mark promised, holding still when he felt Kian begin to tense again. “We don't have to rush this.”

“Okay.” Eyes squeezed shut again then fluttered open, a little darker this time. “I felt so good when I was in you. Like I was a part of you.”

“You are a part of me.” He reached between them, coaxing some movement from Kian's slowly stiffening erection. “This is just sex. It doesn't change anything.” He heard a soft moan, stroked a little harder. “Even if you are totally beautiful.”

“It does change things though.” Kian argued. His hips were starting to move a little bit, rolling into Mark's hand. It was shifting things, the undercurrent of lust starting to rise to the surface again as Kian got more into it, hardening in Mark's hand. “I never... oh. Oh!” He cried out. Mark laughed, trying to hit that spot again. “Oh... Mark!” His head went back, hand grabbing the railing of the bed. “Right there...” He was throbbing, his cock hard and starting to trickle. “Uh...”

“So fucking sexy...” Mark gasped, burying his face in a corded neck, trying to focus, his face heating in the trapped humidity of his own breath. “So hot.” He grabbed Kian's hip, holding him still and trying to target a bit better, making shallow thrusts that only went halfway in but still felt...

“Jesus...” There was a whimpering yelp. “Fuck...”

“I want to make you come.” Mark murmured. “I want you to feel good.”

“Yes...” Kian cried out then, loud and sudden. Mark shushed him, both of them giggling breathlessly, Kian's arms around his neck.

Kian came not long after, whimpering and twisting, spitting himself down with a low cry that was pleasure and pain, Mark's hand slippery while he stroked him through it, feeling teeth bite at his mouth, lips go slack and clumsy when he pulled slowly back out. He came grinding himself against Kian's thigh, a hand on his arse to guide every ragged thrust.

He never did find out why Kian thought sex changed things. He supposed it did in a way. Maybe it aged them a little, connected things together in a way they hadn't before. It was messy and a bit undignified and was too much pale, squidgy flesh all over the place while they made ridiculous noises and said things that would sound hilarious under other circumstances, but maybe that was it. It was being totally embarrassing together and not feeling embarrassed at all. Getting to squash up naked on the bed afterwards, covered in all sorts of fluids and not caring that he'd put on a bit of weight or that he was pretty sure Kian had farted while they were making out even though he'd denied it, because the love of his life was panting breathlessly, looking totally fucked out, and there was nowhere else in the world that could possibly be as good as this.

 

*

 

“Cake?” Mark accepted, taking the paper plate. They were at the park, kids running around all over the place while the birthday boys sat on their parent's laps. They'd just finished singing happy birthday, Nicky bouncing Rocco on his knee while the little guy had looked totally overwhelmed by the glow of the candles. He was right, they had Georgina's eyes. The rest of them was pure Nicky, though, especially now their hair was getting longer. He was starting to see the little differences too, was able to recognise which one was which without looking at what colour they were dressed in.

“So we finally get to meet Nicky's new boyfriend.” Georgina's sister Cecilia seemed quite nice, had been friendly to him pretty much since they'd arrived. He was a bit grateful. He'd not felt at all comfortable coming, but Nicky had asked if he would and he'd felt like he probably should. Like a bit of cake in the park wasn't too much to ask after all the shit he'd put Nicky through.

“I guess so, yeah.” He shrugged. He felt a bit self-conscious, hobbling in, like it didn't make sense that Nicky would give all this up and settle for him in the end. Not that he had, really. Mark supposed they probably were in a relationship of sorts, but still wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. What he wanted it to mean. “I'm not intruding, am I?”

“No, of course not.” A hand patted his shoulder. “She brought whatshisface.” She gestured over at the guy near the punchbowl. He was tall, broad, seemed friendly if a bit boring. “I like you better than him already.”

“You don't like him?”

“He's a rebound shag.” She shrugged. “Nice enough, but I don't see him lasting.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Thanks, I guess?”

“You're welcome.” She took a bite of her cake. “He's seemed a bit better lately.”

“Who, whatshisface?”

“No; Nicky.” An elbow jabbed him lightly. “It's good. I mean, it was awful what happened but... I dunno. I think the whole thing shocked him more than anyone else. I always liked him. And you can't say he doesn't love those kids.”

“He does.” Mark nodded, not sure what else to say. “We get along really well.”

“Good. I think he needs a bit of happiness, frankly. You know about...?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “He told me.”

“Okay. Yeah.” She huffed out a breath. “Well, nice meeting you, anyway. Make sure you hang around for the pinata.” She winked and then get back up, wandering away to talk to someone else. Nicky sank down next to him a second later.

“What's she telling you? None of it's true.”

“So the story about the chicken in Wales...”

“No, that ones probably true.” Fingers tousled his hair. “Hey. I'm sorry for making you come.”

“It's fine. I'm having fun.” He fibbed. It wasn't like he was having an awful time, he just felt out of place, like everyone was looking at him as some sort of sideshow. Like, oh, there's your man that Nicky's ditched his perfect life for. Really? Him? “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, sort of. I can't believe they're one already. It's crazy.” He gestured over to where Jay was staggering across the grass to the sandpit, stumbling on clumsy legs. “How did that happen? One day I'm getting a phone call telling me she's three weeks late, and suddenly I'm here and...”

“I know.” Mark sighed. “It just changes. So fast.” He looked down at his hands, wondering when they'd gotten little wrinkles on the knuckles. His engagement ring caught the sunlight, a flat shine on the gold band. He wasn't sure why he was even wearing it, suddenly. It had been a promise, one he could never fulfil. Broken. Almost three years now and he couldn't say exactly how long without looking at a calendar. There'd been a time when he'd known to the hour. It was Kian's birthday in just over a week. He knew that. Would always know that.

“You want to play Pass the Parcel?” Nicky asked. “It's one of those stupid new age ones where there's a present under every layer.”

“I hate that.” Mark laughed. “If everyone gets something for no reason then what's the point? It stops the prize being as good.”

“I know. Kids these days have it too easy.” A hand closed on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Mark looked at him, saw laughing blue eyes with dark sadness hiding in the edges. “You're my favourite thing at the moment.” He said softly. “Regardless of all the bullshit, I have you. Right?”  
  
“Right.” Mark nodded. His hand landed on a strong, slender thigh, the muscles shifting under his fingers. A hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking under his eye. He swallowed. “Will you kiss me?” He said quietly. “Please?”

“Definitely.” Lips touched his a moment later. Soft pressure. Then pulled away. They stared at each other. Nicky smiled. “Come on.” He took Mark's hand, pulling him over to join the party.

 

*

 

“Bill... bill...” Nicky sighed, shuffling through his mail. He'd popped home for a few hours after the party to sort some things out and get some more clothes. He had shoved his post into the top of a plastic bag full of toiletries, was sitting at the kitchen table opening it while Mark made a couple of sandwiches. “Ooh, I may have already won a million euro!” He snorted, tossing that one straight at the bin in the corner, where it bounced off the side. Mark bent to pick it up, dropping it in properly, then giving him a quick kiss on the way back to the sink, where he was washing off some lettuce. Nicky grinned, touching his arm as he moved away.

“You want tomato?”

“Yes please.” Nicky ripped open another envelope, unfolding the contents. “Well, that's not so bad.” He reasoned. “On the upside, since I've been here I've hardly had to pay anything for power or water.”

“Silver linings.” Mark chuckled. “Cheese?”

“Yeah.” Nicky pursed his lips. “Rent...” He tossed that one aside too. “Remember the old days when you'd get something nice in the mail? Now it's all just people wanting money.”

“That's what email's for.” Mark shrugged. “Now you don't have to wait a week to get a birthday card. I can send you one straight away, and it'll probably have a dancing monkey on it and play a Queen song.”

“My birthday's not until October.”

“Then I've got loads of time to pick the perfect e-card at the last minute.” Mark reasoned. “Salt?”

“Yeah, and a bit of pepper.” Nicky sighed, stacking up the bills and tossing the envelopes away. “Gonna have to pull a few gigs this week to sort this lot out. Might have to go to bed on your own.”

“I'll manage.” He cut the sandwich, putting it down in front of Nicky. Picked up the bill on top and looked at it. “They're really killing you on rent.”  
  
“Tell me about it.” Nicky sighed. “Bastards. It's like they know I need a place to live or something.”

“Sneaky.” Mark laughed. “You should see my mortgage payments. I swear I spend more money keeping this place than I do living in it.” He shuffled through, grabbing Nicky's power bill, thought he should probably feel intrusive going through someone else's finances, but Nicky didn't seem to be complaining, or even to have noticed. He was busy staring at the one for his television license. Mark glanced over at him, saw a bowed head while Nicky took an absent bite of his sandwich, lettuce spilling out the bottom. “Nicky?”

“Mm?” Nicky mumbled, his mouth full of bread.

“Would you want to move in here, maybe?”

Nicky coughed, then it turned into a full blown splutter as Mark slapped his back, crumbs spewing out of his mouth. He gasped in a breath, looking up with a red face.

“Sorry, what?”

“No, just...” Mark felt himself blush. “You're never home. I like you being here, so...” He shrugged. “Maybe you could stay here. I'd hate it if you were having to pay all this money for stuff you never use.

“I... I dunno.” Nicky bit his lip. His sandwich was still grasped in one hand. “Um.” He put it down. There were dent marks in the bread from his fingers. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah. I think so.” He shrugged. It wasn't that big a step. Nicky was practically living here anyway and it made him feel safer having him around. He'd had one or two other freakouts since he'd hurt himself and Nicky had been really calm about the whole thing, had just talked him slowly through it until he was out the other side. “I can...” He swallowed hard. He'd been thinking about this really hard. Kian had looked a bit put out, but he'd seemed insubstantial, somehow, wavering in the air and seeming to be sat about a foot off the bed, not quite jibing with the environment. “I can box up some of Kian's things. Clear out some space for you in the bedroom.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said firmly. It made him feel better, in an odd way, to hear himself say it. “If you want to.”

“I'll have to think about it.” Nicky glanced around. “I do like it here. It feels more like home than my place.”

“It's up to you.” Mark nodded. He took a bite of his sandwich, realising he hadn't touched it yet. It tasted good, clean and fresh on his tongue. “Bring Keano, of course. And maybe... if you want we can clear out the study a bit. Put in a couple of beds for Rocco and Jay so they can stay on your weekends.”

“I...” Nicky's hand covered his mouth, and Mark was surprised to see tears standing in his eyes. “That sounds fantastic.” He stood up, running fingers through his hair, pacing slightly around the table. He paused finally, in the doorway, in front of the picture of Kian and his twenty-first birthday cake. Mark stared at it, at arms around his waist and an excited grin, their whole lives rolling out in front of them. He wondered what Kian would be like now. If he'd be exactly the same or if he'd be different, older. Mark felt different. Not at all like the same person who had been halfway into the backseat of a car almost three years ago.

He grabbed Nicky's hand, felt it tighten in his grip. A trembling smile locked on him.

“Stay.” He said quietly. “Please.”

 

*

 

“Happy birthday, Ki.” Mark said softly. He hadn't gone home for it. Had considered it. Nicky had offered to drive him but it felt too much. Like a last step he wasn't quite ready to take. He was stood on the motorway instead, beside a copse of trees that had been cleared a little since last time he'd been here, though there were still quite a few branches, low to the ground, that looked short and lopped off. They seemed to be growing back though, even if the damage was still noticeable.

He kicked at the dirt a little, scuffing it with his shoe. He didn't know what to say. He'd barely seen the place last time he'd been here. It had been dark and he'd been almost blind with the rain, with the headlights of the lorry. All he'd been able to see was Kian, being cheeky and adventurous as usual.

“I...” He bit his lip. Nicky was parked a little way up the road, had let him walk the rest himself. “I miss you so much.” His hand shook on the handle of the cane. “You don't come visit me so much any more.” He wiped his eyes. “You can still come visit me if you want...” He sighed, kicking at the dirt again. “Fuck. Um. You like him, right? I wouldn't see him if you didn't like him.” There was no response, nothing but the wind floating through. He didn't know what he expected. Some sort of stupid cliché sign, like a sudden breeze or a swarm of yellow butterflies or a ray of fucking sunlight. A magpie started pecking for worms near a bush. It would be just his luck if that was his sign. He fucking hated birds. Kian knew that.

“Anyway. Yeah. Happy birthday.” He glanced around. “You would have been twenty-eight, I guess. Probably be surfing like mad and finally getting a proper job. Or maybe not. I don't know. Maybe you'd still be working at HMV.” He laughed to himself. He probably would, too, getting into management and harassing everybody about sales figures.

“This is the best you can do?” Kian smirked. Mark glanced over, saw him propped against a nearby tree, his arms crossed over his chest. “You always did waffle on.”

“Fuck off.” Mark rolled his eyes, getting a grin. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know.” He nodded over at the spot in the corner where the broken branches were most noticeable, where there were healing scars in the trunks of the trees. “This is a depressing place to come back to, though.”

“It was the last place I had you.”

“I guess.” He tilted his head. “Did you really pack up all my stuff?”

“Not all of it.” He'd just tidied, really. It had been less awful than he'd expected, gathering up all the bits of out his drawers and putting them in a box. Nicky had helped, not touching, just asking questions while Mark told little stories about all the different pieces of Kian. Packing up his reading glasses and his concert tickets and even his vibrator, and finding other things. Old bills, a keychain, a deck of playing cards he'd stolen from a hotel room when they'd been on holidays. A notebook with some scribbled lyrics on a couple of pages and a terrible doodle of a stegosaurus. Birthday cards and Christmas cards with Mark's name signed in them. A couple of necklaces that he'd carefully put in a drawstring bag to keep safe.

The clothes had gone in bags. They hadn't smelled of him any more. Some of them he couldn't even really remember Kian wearing. Then, on a last whim, he'd taken his own blue shirt, folded it neatly, and added it to the bag, settling it carefully on top of a soft grey sweater Kian had always worn on chilly autumn afternoons when they'd gone walking in Sligo.

Photographs he'd kept where they were, but he'd bought a new bag of hooks and Nicky was already starting to put up some of his own, mostly of the boys but some of himself and his family as well, and even a couple of he and Georgina, telling stories about where they'd been taken and why they meant so much to him. There were already finger paintings on the fridge and a kennel in the backyard. Nicky was trying to get Keano to stop drinking out of the toilet.

“Marky?”

“Yeah?” He looked over. Kian gave him a smile.

“Nothing.” He laughed. “I'll see you.”

“You're going?”

“Didn't say that.” He got a wink. “Just... you know... I'll see you around.” He pushed off the tree. “By the way?”

“Yeah?”

Kian smirked. “I like him.”

He disappeared into the trees a moment later.


	12. Epilogue

 “What you working on?”

“Just doing a bit of editing.” Mark pushed his headphones down around his neck, smiling into the kiss that brushed his ear. “Think this one's basically done if you want to hear it in a bit.”

“I'd love to.” A bowl of cereal landed in front of him, next to a honey-coloured teddy bear with a blue bow. “Eat something, okay? You've been in here hours.”  
  
“Sorry...”  
  
“No problem.” His shoulders were kneaded gently. “Just be careful. You know you get all stiff when you've been sitting still too long. My poor fragile flower.”

“Fuck off.” He laughed, swiping out at Nicky, who dodged him, wrapping arms around his shoulders from behind him. Another kiss brushed his neck. “Can I help you?”

“Maybe.” Teeth nipped lightly, making him shiver. “We have a couple of hours until I have to pick the boys up from school. You want to go make out a little bit?”

“But I have cereal...” Mark protested, laughing when he heard a soft growl. “Just a little bit?”

“A lot, maybe.” Nicky amended. “Quite a lot.” The chair was spun around and then Nicky was in his lap, settling on top of him carefully. Fingers ran down his shirt buttons. “Why are you even wearing clothes?”

“Because it's cold.” Mark reasoned.

“I'll warm you up.” Nicky promised, already standing. He was yanked to his feet a second later, Nicky's hand steadying him while his stiffened hip adjusted. “Come upstairs. I have things to show you.”

“Things?”

“Wonderful things.” Nicky winked, tugging him through the living room and to the stairs, past a large framed picture of Rocco and Jay on their first day of primary school, almost six months ago, Nicky with an arm around each of their shoulders, their backpacks looking impossibly big. Past one of Mark holding a two-year-old Jay in one hand and a sparkler in the other, the toddler's eyes boggling at it while they both laughed. Past one of Nicky on his thirty-third birthday, their arms around each other while Nicky blew out his candles.

“I'm getting too old for these shenanigans.” Mark protested. Nicky grinned, pushing him gently back onto the bed and climbing on top. They kissed slowly, Mark's fingers drifting into the back of tight jeans, closing on a perfect arse, his wedding ring catching on firm flesh. Nicky's hand came up under his shirt, fingers clasping over the uneven skin on his hip.

“No you're not.” Nicky murmured. “You're perfect.”

 

*

 

Kian stood up, tapping slightly on his glass. The whole Feehily clan was there, more or less, his father and uncle running the barbecue, grandparents and cousins spread out to the fence. No particular reason, just one of those impromptu things that had suddenly snowballed from cake and tea into a genuine family gathering.

“Hi so... I wanted to um...” Mark looked up at him, wondering what the fuck was going on. It wasn't like any of them were doing speeches or anything. People were going quiet, were all looking over at Kian who looked quite nice today, actually, with his hair styled in a way that made him look utterly adorable, short at the sides and revealing the pointed little elf ears that Mark so loved to nibble on.

“So...” Kian's hand was fishing in his pocket. “So me and Mark have been going out for six years now and I just wanted to say I really appreciate everyone accepting me into the family. I... I love him so much and I've always felt really welcome, so...” There were general awwws. He caught one of his grandmothers smiling at him. “Anyway. He's my family, and you're his, and... and I don't ever want that to change because...” He looked down at Mark. “You're the love of my life, babe. Never anybody else but you.”

Mark felt his cheeks go pink, wasn't sure what to say to that. Then Kian was sinking to one knee and oh.

“Marry me.” The ring was plain gold, shining in the garden lights. “Please.”

“I...” He didn't know how to sufficiently communicate the amount of yes he wanted to say, so instead he dropped to his own knees, yanking Kian into a crushing embrace. “God. Yes. Of course I will.” He whispered. Kian kissed him hard, fingers tangling into his hair.

“I love you.” Kian whispered, his kisses mopping up Mark's tears before they could fall.


End file.
